Passing Judgement
by Momo Taishou
Summary: Tiva, McAbby, Jibbs; Post-Judgement Day. Happiness and overcoming challenges takes hard work and time, but the team can always find a way to accomplish what they want.
1. Decisions

So, the season 5 finale killed me and here I am, writing from my coffin. This is a continuation of sorts, and don't worry, it has a happy ending! Oh yes, my story 'Chemistry' is currently on hiatus whilst I write this because with the events of the finale, I guess it counts as an AU story now.

* * *

Director Vance's words still rang in his head as he tossed miscellaneous clothing and hair-care products into his suitcase. Agent afloat; ha! He knew it was on purpose that he was sent to work on a ship, considering he hated ships and Vance probably knew it. McGee had it easiest, same building, just a different department; he would still get to see Abby, Duck and Gibbs. But Gibbs would have to train a new team and everyone knew the whole situation was hard on him, but they felt bad for the new team as well. They would have to get used to Gibbs. Then, there was Ziva; she was being sent back to Israel, she was going home. It couldn't be that bad, right? But he would miss her. After the whole ordeal of Jenny Shepard's death and the reassignments, he had finally been able to realize that he was in love with her. He had been for a long time, and for just as long he had been running from it. And he only wished he could have realized it earlier, when they might have had a chance. He looked down at his suitcase, noticing he had been so lost in his thoughts that he had way over packed, creating a messy pile that would definitely not allow the suitcase to close. He moved to sit down on his bed, still thinking about everything, mostly about Ziva, but was pulled from his thoughts when the doorbell rang. He chose to ignore the ring and return to his thoughts but it grew more persistent, soon becoming a loud knocking and he was no longer able to concentrate on his thoughts. He got and moved through his apartment to the door, and was surprised upon opening it to see Ziva standing in front of him.

"Well, it is about time!" groaned Ziva, moving past Tony, who just stood there, unsure of what to do as Ziva sat down on his couch.

He closed the door and turned towards Ziva, still not moving from his spot.

She looked at him for a few seconds before finally asking, "What?" When he didn't reply, she walked up to him and slapped him lightly across the face. Lightly being on Ziva's terms.

"What the hell was that?" Tony half-shouted in Ziva's face.

"He speaks!" announced Ziva, walking to sit back down on the couch. She patted the cushion next to her, motioning Tony to sit down. He did, and there was a silence for a few seconds until Tony finally spoke up.

"Why are you here?" he asked, staring at his feet, or at anything but Ziva.

She simply replied, "To say goodbye."

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"Me too."

"I know."

There was another moment of silence, until Tony spoke again. This time with a tone of sadness and something like fear; "I'm not going, Ziva. I'm gonna resign."

Ziva looked at him, "What? Why?"

"I hate boats, Ziva!"

"That is not it."

"Sure it is."

Ziva stared him right in the eyes for what seemed like a lifetime, before Tony finally broke down and spoke up.

"I will not be Vance's bitch!"

"A-ha, there is the response I knew would come from you."

"Is that why you came here? To hear that?"

"No. I am honestly not entirely sure why I came here. I really do not even know what I am doing!"

"What do you mean?"

Ziva sat there, looking at her hands. "I am not returning to Mossad."

Tony looked at her, and she continued, "If I do return, or if I do not, I will soon die anyway."

"Die? Why?"

"If I return, my father, as the director of Mossad, will see that I have changed, that I can no longer complete his merciless missions. He will inevitably send me on a suicide mission to eliminate me. Or kill me himself to ensure I do not spread Mossad intelligence. If I do not return, I will be hunted down and killed for betrayal. Either way, I die; so I choose to die here, where I have friends and a life I love. Quit while you are ahead, that is the saying, yes?"

"Ziva…"

"NCIS has become my family. McGee is like a brother to me, Abby a sister. Gibbs is a much better father than mine ever was, and Ducky is like my grandfather. Jenny was often like a mother to me, as well as being my best friend. Even Palmer is like a part of my family now. I choose to die in their land and not the one that was so cruel to me."

"What about me? Aren't I a part of your family."

"No."

He looked hurt, his eyes on the brink of tears that he was trying his hardest to keep in.

"You cannot be a part of my family because I am in love with you, and I am not a fan of incest."

Tony stared at her, eyes wide, taking in what she had just admitted. She looked back at him, waiting for some sort of response, unsure of what would happen next. Finally, Tony reached out and embraced her. She slipped her arms around him and they stayed there, unmoving, for a long time until Tony let go and began to speak once more.

"Why don't we go together?"

"Go where?"

"I don't know; wherever. Since I'm quitting NCIS and you're running from Mossad, we can go together."

"No. If you are with me, you will probably be killed too."

"I don't care; I want to be with you for as long as I can, I love you! Please, Ziva."

The longing look in his eyes eventually caused Ziva to submit and agree with his idea.

"But we will have to leave tomorrow. Father is expecting me back very late tomorrow night, and I want to be far away from here by time he realizes I am not coming."

"Then we'll leave tomorrow."

Tony slipped one hand along Ziva's back and the other below her upper legs, and despite her protests, carried her to his bedroom.

"We need to sleep so we can get up and leave early tomorrow. Do you need to stop by your house and pack some things?"

Ziva settled herself under the covers and watched Tony do the same next to her.

"All I need is my family here, which I cannot take, or my love, who is right here with me." She explained, laying her head on Tony's chest.

He smiled, and they both drifted off to sleep, comforted in each other's arms.


	2. The World is Not Enough

Here's just a short chapter to continue the story...I've got big plans for the rest of it, but it will come in small bits. Thankies for reading and please review!

* * *

Sunlight shone through the half-open curtains as Ziva woke up to the sound of an alarm clock. She reached to turn it off as it buzzed and flashed '6:00', but realized Tony's arm was still holding her tightly to him. She managed to reach the off button on the alarm, but could not free herself from Tony's grip. She turned over so her chest was pressed against his, and stared at his face. She softly called his name a few times before deciding on a more effective way to wake him. She licked his ear, like during the sexual harassment conference, and he quickly woke up with a squeal. Ziva giggled and rolled off of him, walking toward the bathroom.

"We have to leave soon. I am going to take a shower, okay?"

"Mmkay…" drawled Tony, still half asleep.

"Come on, get up!"

"Alright, alright…" Tony slipped out of bed just as Ziva shut the bathroom door.

Twenty minutes later, Ziva walked into the kitchen, a pleasant smell wafting from it. She leaned in the doorway to watch Tony finish preparing breakfast. He shoveled the bacon and eggs onto two plates and turned around to see Ziva watching him. He handed her a plate, which she stared at uncertainly.

"It's kosher," Tony said, understanding why she was so hesitant.

Ziva smiled up at him and the two began to eat. An hour went by quickly and silently until Tony and Ziva locked the door behind them and headed for Tony's car.

Tony was about to put the keys in the ignition, but stopped, turned to Ziva, and kissed her. She was surprised at first, but quickly returned the kiss and the two sat in the car, locked in their passionate embrace until they began to run out of breath. They pulled apart, and smiling, began on their way away from Washington, D.C.

A few minutes into the drive, Tony reached for the radio and turned it on. The two sat in a comfortable silence with the music of the radio flowing around them.

_I know how to hurt  
I know how to heal  
I know what to show  
And what to conceal  
I know when to talk  
And I know when to touch  
No-one ever died from wanting too much_

_The world is not enough  
But it is such a perfect place to start...my love  
And if you're strong enough  
_

_Together we can take the world apart...my love_

_People like us  
Know how to survive  
There's no point in living  
If you can't feel the life  
We know when to kiss  
And we know when to kill  
If we can't have it all  
Then nobody will_

_The world is not enough  
But it is such a perfect place to start...my love  
And if you're strong enough  
Together we can take the world apart...my love_

_I feel sick  
I feel scared  
I feel ready  
And yet unprepared_

_The world is not enough  
But it is such a perfect place to start...my love  
And if you're strong enough  
Together we can take the world apart...my love_

_The world is not enough_

* * *

The song is 'The World is Not Enough' by Garbage, from one of the James Bond movies. I think it totally fits Tony and Ziva.


	3. Night off the Road

The sun was only half-visible over the horizon, and the sky was darkening from a mixture of oranges, reds, blues, and pinks. Ziva stared at the sky, watching the day fade into night, beginning to see her opaque reflection in the car window. She and Tony had been on the road all day, stopping only twice: once for lunch and again so Tony could use the toilet. They were currently driving through the outskirts of a quiet and relatively empty small town, and both were growing tired.

"Ziva, can we stop for the night? I think we've gone far enough for today."

Ziva looked over to the driver's seat and noticing how tired Tony looked, decided to agree to look for a place to stay. Soon she spotted a small motel on the side of the road and Tony pulled the car into the gravel parking lot. The two opened their doors in unison and stepped out with the resolve usually reserved for looking intimidating when arriving to question a suspect in a case. They walked shoulder-to-shoulder across the parking lot into the small, shabby building that appeared to be the home of the check-in desk. When they arrived, Tony reached for the door handle and held the door open for Ziva, who was a little surprised, but did not show it. They walked to the desk and were greeted by an elderly man.

"Hello, would you two like to get a room for tonight?"

Tired, and resisting the urge to reply, 'Obviously' to the old man, Tony simply said "Yes".

The old man wrote something down in front of him, then turned toward the curtain separating the front desk from the room behind it and called out, "Jesse!"

A young woman, appearing to be in her late twenties, pushed the curtain aside and walked toward the old man. He spoke to the young woman for a few seconds before she walked around the desk and leaned in to tell Tony that she would take him to his room, not even acknowledging Ziva's existence. The whole way to the room, the woman was walking much too close to Tony for Ziva's comfort and when they finally stopped at the door she gave Tony a wink and brushed against him as she walked away, swaying her hips.

Ziva stalked into the room and sat in a huff on the bed, Tony following close behind her. He was internally debating whether it was safe enough to ask Ziva why she seemed so irritable all of a sudden, but finally decided he cared more about her than he did about the numerous ways she could kill him if he got on her nerves, so he set his suitcase down and stood in front of her.

"Are you okay, Ziva?"

"I am fine," she stated sharply.

"Jeez, are you really that tired? Good thing I didn't stay in the car with you for any longer."

Ziva stared up at him, her eyes looking angry and cold and Tony realized how hurtful his last statement probably had been, even to the sturdy and seemingly emotionless assassin.

He bent down to embrace her, waiting for the punch in the gut or kick in the balls that never came. Instead, she just sat there and let him hug her.

"I'm sorry, Ziva…I didn't mean it like that."

"I know."

Tony moved to sit on the bed beside Ziva, his arms still wrapped around her, and asked, "So what's wrong, Ziva?"

"She was flirting with you."

"What? Oh, whoa! You're jealous!"

"I am not jealous. I just did not like her."

"So…you were jealous."

"I was not."

The 'was not, was too' war continued for about ten minutes until the two decided they were very tired and should get to sleep so they could continue on their trip the next day. Tony flopped backwards to lay on the bed, but Ziva got up and walked over to the nightstand, sat on the bed, and picked up the phone. Tony sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, and looked questioningly at Ziva, or rather, the back of her head. She dialed a few numbers and held the phone to her ear, aware of Tony watching her. Three rings sounded before Ziva heard a voice at the other end.

"Hello?"

"Abby?"

"Abby?" Tony questioned, earning a 'Shhhh!' out of Ziva.

"Ohmygod! Ziva! Where are you? Are you okay? I kept calling you and you didn't answer, and you weren't at your house and I went to Tony's and he wasn't there but his stuff was gone, and-"

"Abby! Calm down. I am fine and so is Tony. He is here with me."

"Where is here?"

"I cannot tell you exactly, but we are far from D.C."

Tony kept trying to interrupt and say something, but Ziva swatted her hand at him to get him to stop.

"What? Why?"

"I am running from Mossad, and Tony chose to come with me. He resigned from his 'Agent Afloat' position."

"Woah!"

"Abby: only tell Gibbs, McGee, and Ducky about this, understand? Nobody else can know."

"I understand, my fine ninja friend."

Ziva was about to say something else when she heard Abby calling something in the background. "Timmy! C'mere! "

"McGee is there?"

"Yeah…he's, um, sleeping over."

"Ah, I see. It is about time, too."

"Yeah, finally, huh? Hold on a sec, okay?"

"Sure."

Ziva turned to Tony and began explaining to him, "I am talking to Abby; I want her, Gibbs, McGee and Ducky to know what is going on so they will not be worried. It was enough losing one friend; I think they deserve to know that nothing bad has happened to us."

"Oh, I get it." He moved closer to her and hugged her from behind, nuzzling his head into her neck.

"Oh, also, Abby and McGee are together now.

"Really?!"

"Ziva?" was heard on the other end of the line.

"McGee, hello!"

"Hey Ziva. Abby just told me what's going on. Are you guys alright?"

"We're doing fine."

"Okay."

Tony stole the phone away from Ziva and started to talk into it.

"Probie! Are you really doing Abby?"

"Uhh…well, she's my girlfriend now…yeah."

"When did this happen? Not while I was still there?"

"Ah, no…just last night."

"I see. Way to go, McSexy. Ew. Remind me never to say that again."

"Um, right…"

"How is everybody?"

"We're doing okay."

"And Gibbs?"

"He's doing pretty good, considering…"

"Alright. We'll call you guys when we get wherever we're going. Take care of yourself, Probie. And take care of Abby, too."

"I will. Take care of yourselves, too."

Tony set the phone back on the receiver, and slid backwards and under the covers. Ziva followed suit and, like the previous night, laid her head on Tony's chest.

"This is even more comfortable when you are not wearing a shirt."

Once again, the two fell asleep smiling, loving every second of being in each other's arms.


	4. Probies, Probies, Everywhere!

It had been two days since Director Vance split up the team, and Leroy Jethro Gibbs was in a worse mood than ever. Today was the day his new team of Probies would arrive. He dreaded having to train another team when the one that had just been ripped away from him had become so reliable. They were like family to him.

A moment later, he noticed a figure standing in front of his desk. He looked up to see a man, appearing to be in his thirties, who asked him: "Are you Special Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs replied with a grunted 'yes' and the man introduced himself as Daniel Tiral the Third. He began rattling off his qualifications and achievements, but was interrupted when Gibbs pointed to Tony's old desk and said: "You sit there." Introducing himself as 'the Third' had put Tiral way below the bad expectations Gibbs had already held for the new team.

A woman soon arrived and stood in front of Gibbs desk, just as Tirel had. She, however, did not say anything, but batted her eyelashes a lot and seemed offended when Gibbs did not ask about her, instead just pointing to the desk Ziva used to sit at and saying 'sit'.

A few minutes after the woman arrived, a tall, dorky man walked in, looking around until he spotted Gibbs.

"Umm…Special Agent Gibbs…?"

"Yup."

The man shifted nervously. "I'm David Wesley, I'll be on your team, I guess…"

"You guess? So you're not sure?"

"We-well, I am sure. I am on your team."

"Then sit there," Gibbs said, pointing to McGee's old desk.

Wesley sat in the chair and set his bag on top of the desk. "Umm, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs looked up, "What?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Just so you know, I'm allergic to coffee," said Wesley, staring at the large cup on Gibbs' desk.

Just then, Abby and Ducky walked into the bullpen, warily ready to meet the new team. Abby looked around at the frightened faces of the team, and Ducky set another large cup of coffee on Gibbs' desk, causing Wesley to shift his seat to the side of his desk farthest from Gibbs. The three stared at Abby, until she said, "Well, don't all introduce yourselves at once!"

When still nobody made a move to talk to the visitors, Gibbs got up from his seat and walked over to the two. He looked in the general direction of the Probies and dully said, "This is Doctor Mallard, our medical examiner; and Abby Scuito, our forensic scientist. Duck, Abbs; these are the new probies."

Still, the team stayed rooted to their seats, mouths closed, eyes locked on the goth in front of them, barely noticing Ducky.

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee and thought about how horrible his new team was and how they were so lacking in any skills, they would probably all end up with concussions from his head-slaps. Suddenly, the idea of a permanent retirement didn't seem so bad. But he couldn't just give up. He had to fix what Vance had broken.

* * *

Sorry, guys. This was more of a filler chapter, but I had to get something going back at NCIS because I've got big plans for everyone's favorite head-slapping, coffee-drinking, boat-building...okay, I think you get who I'm talking about by now. Anyways, more Tiva in the next chapter, and some McAbby soon after that. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews!


	5. Destination

Tony looked at the man in front of him with amusement; it took all he had not to burst into laughter at the curled moustache, tiny eyes, and massively large eyebrows that looked as if they had been glued to the man's face.

Ziva was holding her amusement in much more easily, not even cracking a taunting smile as she handed the man her money and received the room key from him. She turned toward Tony and pulled him away towards the elevator, the two of them bursting into uncontrollable laughter the moment the silver doors shut behind them.

These moments were precious to the two of them, as being on the run from a powerful entity like Mossad did not leave much time to be lighthearted, even for a guy like Tony. The laughs and fun that they had become accustomed to having with Abby, McGee, Ducky, even Gibbs and Director Shepard was now a commodity. All those times that had seemed so trivial and unimportant, like Tony and Ziva pranking McGee, or the silly conversations that would originate in the bullpen when Gibbs was away, and all the head-slaps they earned from those times, now seemed so meaningful.

The elevator arrived on the 9th floor and opened just after their laughing ceased, and Tony and Ziva navigated the fancy hallways of the upscale hotel to find their room. It was only the early afternoon, the earliest they had ever stopped at a hotel, and Tony was grateful; Ziva had finally declared the journey to a far away destination over, and the two were now in a tourist town near the eastern border of California. Ziva had decided to reserve a nice room there for a week or so until they could find an apartment or small house. Tony was skeptical, insisting it would take much longer than a week to find a place to live, but Ziva already had some options chosen, and with her connections she could buy any one of them within a few days.

Their time at the hotel went by quickly, and in six days they were on the road again, though only for twenty miles this time as Tony drove them to their new house in a small Californian town. It was a nice, small house; perfect for two people, especially ones who wanted to be inconspicuous. The house's blue color and simple white trim was mimicked by every fourth house in the neighborhood; it's style by every fifth. The black asphalt driveway and small, plain garden in the front of the house were consistent throughout the neighborhood, and the backyard was plain as well; half dead grass bordered by a chipping white picket fence.

The inside was not any less plain. Walking in the door, one would step into the living room and be surrounded by light blue with the occasional shelf or cabinet shoved up against the wall. There was one sofa, pink and faded, and a matching armchair. The living room led to the kitchen, which also doubled as a dining room. The walls were a light green, and other than the standard kitchen appliances, all that adorned the room was a table with four chairs. Besides the plain bathroom, there was nothing else on the first floor. The second floor, however, was home to a yellow bedroom that had everything typically found in a bedroom, except for the bed. It was connected to a fairly large bathroom that was just as plain as the one downstairs. The only other room on the second floor, unless you count the pink hallway, was a white office with a wooden desk, a bookshelf, and a small closet.

It was a modest house, that was for sure, and it was painted a little too feminine for Tony's liking, but it was the perfect place to live as 'Lisa and Tommy DiNardo' until it was safe, if it was ever safe, to return to Washington, D.C.

* * *

I posted this like not even an hour after chapter four...so, does that make it okay that they are both so short? They're just segway chapters, 'cause I need to get the characters where I want them so I can begin the real plot. Next is some McAbby back at NCIS!

P.S., reviews are like little cookies filled with creative energy that make people write faster! -hint hint-


	6. Mission Accomplished

* * *

The elevator doors opened with a 'ding' and McGee stepped out, almost bumping into Abby, who stood not a foot from the door.

"Whoa, sorry Abbs!" he said as he narrowly avoided falling forward onto Abby.

His apology was met with an intent glare, "You're late!" Abby exclaimed, stomping her foot on the carpet for emphasis.

"Sorry, I had to get away from _Margaret,_" he said, imitating a shudder before continuing, "She's crazy! Tony would have a field day if he met her; she's the embodiment of all generalizations about nerds! And she won't stop flirting with me!"

Abby smiled and took his hand. "Well, I can understand why she would want to flirt with you; you are pretty cute. I'd be willing to bet you're the cutest guy in cyber-crimes!"

McGee blushed slightly and walked back into the elevator, hand-in-hand with Abby.

"She's very persistent, though. You think she would have given up by now; it's been like this since I was transferred!"

"Well, I've seen her coming into the building some mornings, and I must say: she's probably pretty desperate to get laid. It doesn't look like she's gotten any in awhile."

"Still, why me?"

"Well, you are _really_ good. It makes sense to me!"

McGee blushed harder this time, but before he and Abby could finish their interesting conversation, the elevator doors opened and two agents stepped in. They were obviously very new to the building because as soon as the doors opened on the next floor, they were out of the elevator, driven by an obvious uneasiness caused by seeing Abby for the first time. That's how it always was; the probies either feared Abby or were overly-intrigued by the gothic beauty. The latter being something that McGee detested more than anything he could think of.

As soon as the doors closed again, McGee and Abby began laughing at the frightened probies. Soon, a mischievous smile appeared on Abby's face and she began continuing their conversation from before. She only managed to say, "I especially like it when you-", before the elevator lurched to a stop and the lights dimmed to a faint blue.

Immediately, they both looked toward the emergency stop button; it was first instinct after having worked with Gibbs for so long. Wondering if perhaps she had accidentally bumped into it, causing the elevator to stop, Abby began repeatedly pressing the button.

"Abby. Abby! Hitting the button over and over again won't fix the elevator."

"I know, but it makes me feel better. I'm bored!"

"We've only been stuck in here for a minute, Abbs."

Abby sighed and slid her back down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, and rested her chin on her knees. McGee sat down next to her and put his hand on her knee for comfort. Abby looked up at him and smiled one of her adorable, innocent smiles.

"Look on the bright side! Only five people die in elevators every year!"

* * *

All was normal in the bullpen. Well, normal for the probies. For Gibbs, it was like sitting in a room full of monkeys; Tirel was filing his nails, yes, _filing them_. The woman, whose name Gibbs had found out to be Alicia Brookes, was chatting on her cell phone with some anonymous boyfriend. Wesley was in the process of re-arranging his workspace in order to sit as far away from Gibbs' coffee as possible, and to be facing it. You know, in case the cup decided to jump up and attack him. Gibbs mused about his incompetent team for a few minutes longer until he was interrupted by a short, odd looking woman who, though appearing to be in her early thirties, wore horn-rimmed glasses and had a hairstyle that looked as though it had been flung straight off the head of an actress in 'Hairspray'. She leaned onto Gibbs' desk and before he even had the chance to properly glare at her, she asked, "Would you happen to know where Timothy is?"

"McGee isn't a part of my team anymore," stated Gibbs bluntly, knowing McGee was currently out to lunch with Abby, but choosing for McGee's sake to dodge the question.

"But Agent Darschell over there said that Timothy spends a lot of his free time talking to you here!"

Gibbs looked to the left just in time to see Special Agent Michael Darschell turn the corner and rush into the next hallway in fear of the wrath of Gibbs. He then looked up at the odd woman and explained, "Not all of his free time," and began typing something on his computer.

The woman, who eventually introduced herself as Margaret Clark, kept pestering Gibbs about the possible whereabouts of Timothy McGee. Gibbs remained silent and eventually Margaret gave up and stormed in the direction of the elevator, presumably to return to the black hole known as the cyber-crimes unit. She quickly grew frustrated when pounding the elevator button did not yield results and was sure to give Gibbs a glare as she passed his team on the way to the staircase.

Gibbs glanced over at the elevator, curious as to why Margaret did not take it, and noticed a small group of agents pressing the button and waiting for the elevator, but becoming annoyed as they realized it was broken.

As soon as the group passed his team's cluster of desks during their trek to the stairs, Gibbs got up and walked over to the elevator. Sure enough, it really was broken. He thought about reporting it, but then the idea that it would cause the agency to run less smoothly the longer it was broken, thereby making Director Vance look bad, seemed very nice to him. A moment later, Gibbs had another thought: there might have been people in the elevator when it broke down, and if there were, they are still in there!

* * *

Back in the elevator, Abby was resting her head on McGee's lap. They had been stuck for ten boring minutes, and Abby never has and never will cope well with boredom.

"Hey, McGee."

"Yeah?"

"Let's play truth or dare."

"No way."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"Fine."

"Yesss! Okay, truth or dare?" asked Abby, moving to sit upright, to which McGee hid his disappointment.

"Truth."

"Okay… "

Twenty minutes and eight embarrassing truth-or-dares later, a rattling noise came from the roof of the elevator. A muffled voice could just barely be heard through the metal walls.

"Is anybody in there?"

"Yeah! There are two of us!" shouted Abby at the top of her lungs.

A few minutes later, the top of the elevator had been opened McGee and Abby were lifted out.

Abby ran to hug Gibbs, who was standing just outside of the pried-open elevator doors, and then turned to hug McGee once he reached them. Director Vance came down the stairs and sent the two of them back to work, ignorant of the fact that their lunch break was spent in an elevator.

"Sorry we didn't get to eat together like I promised. I'll take you out tomorrow, okay?"

"It's a date, Tim," said Abby, smiling at McGee, who smiled back, "but I'll pick you up this time."

* * *

The clock struck noon and Abby rushed out of her lab, tossing her lab coat onto the rack beside her door. She took the stairs to cyber-crimes, as the elevator was still broken, and soon arrived at her destination. She paused to think about her goal before opening the door and stepping into the dark room that was lit mainly by the glowing computer monitors.

McGee rose from his desk, turned his computer off, and grabbed his bag. Next to him, Margaret got up from her seat and smiled a bright, creepy smile in his direction.

Abby walked up behind McGee and put her arms around him. Putting her mouth close to his ear, she suggested they head out to lunch so they could get back in time, then she released him from her embrace and took his hand to lead him out of the room. She looked back as she closed the door, smiling at the dumbfounded and jealous look on Margaret's face.

'_Mission accomplished,'_ she thought to herself.

* * *

So, yeah…here's chapter six. I've got so many ideas, but not enough time to type them all very quickly, so updates will come as often as I can type them. Every few days or so. Thanks for reading!

By the way, remember the whole 'reviews equal cookies' thing? Well, they've been upgraded to doughnuts. :) -hint hint-


	7. Tony DiNozzo Needs a Bed!

The afternoon sun filtered in through the curtained window and hit Tony right in the face, waking him from his back-pain filled sleep. He had fallen asleep on the downstairs sofa, which was not comfortable in the least, proving how tired he must have been from unpacking the few boxes of his that he had managed to stuff in the trunk, and from re-arranging the furniture to what Ziva called 'the most strategic placement in case of an attack'. He recalled the conversation, thinking it would be a proper way (in his mind, at least) to buy some time before having to get up and work some more.

"_Okay, first, this needs to go here. And that needs to go there. Oh, and that table should-"_

"_Wait!" Tony inserted, "Why does what need to go where?"_

"_Well, it looks as if pretty much everything needs to be moved somewhere else."_

"_Why?" Tony whined, knowing this would entail actual boring work on his part._

"_Everything must be in the most strategic placement in case of attack. So we must move them to where they should be."_

"_What? Who the heck would be attacking us? In America, people don't do that kind of thing too often."_

"_Yes, but Mossad does. We really need to be prepared. I want at least you, though I pray for both of us, to come out of this alive."_

_Tony looked at her for a moment, noticing the genuine care in her eyes, and realized he had seen that look before; directed at him. He just never knew what it was, never knew she _could_ care about someone like him._

"_Alright, what do we move first?"_

"_Okay, let's move all of the large things, like the couches and tables, first. Then you can do the rest of this floor and I can do the rooms upstairs."_

"_Wait, we have to move furniture in _every room_?"_

"_Yes, now pick up the other end of the couch."_

It had been hours since they started moving furniture, and almost just as long since Tony had seen Ziva. They took their respective floors, and the only communication they had was him asking questions about where to put the furniture and Ziva answering them.

Tony walked up the stairs and down the hallway to peek into the office. The furniture had been re-arranged, but Ziva was not there. He walked into the bedroom and saw that it had also been re-arranged, and noticed Ziva slumped against the wall, asleep and snoring.

'_She really does look peaceful when she sleeps._' thought Tony as he watched her from the doorway.

He walked up to Ziva and kneeled beside her. Then, before he even had time to think, he was on the ground and a gun was pressed against his head.

"Oh, sorry Tony. I did not know it was you."

"God, Ziva! You scared the hell outta me!"

She leaned down to kiss him lightly on the lips, then pushed herself up and holstered her gun.

"Did you finish downstairs?"

"Yeah, everything's where you wanted it."

Ziva smiled. "Great. Let's get something to eat, shall we? It has been a long day."

"Yes! I'm starving! Let's order pizza. We need to start scoping out the good pizza places around here!"

"Alright, pizza it is. Where should I order it from?"

"Just call the first one in the phonebook. If we go in alphabetical order, we can try them all soon!"

"We will not be having pizza every night, Tony."

Tony stuck out his bottom lip in a fake protest, and Ziva went to call Angelo's Pizza.

* * *

Tony and Ziva sat facing each other at their kitchen table, eating the pizza, which Tony had graded as a 'four out of five'. Simultaneously, the two opened their mouths to say something. Ziva managed to go first, as _her_ mouth was not full of pizza.

"You need to get a job."

Tony swallowed his pizza hurriedly so he could not waste any time in asking, "Why?"

"We need money to buy food and other necessities, Tony."

"Oh, right. Well, are _you _gonna get a job?"

"No. I am a fugitive; I cannot take the chance that my real identity be discovered. I cannot get a job anywhere decent, because I cannot say I worked as a liaison for Mossad at NCIS. Nobody can know that I had anything to do with Mossad, or we will definitely be found. So, under these circumstances, I have no credentials to use in order to get a good job."

"Fine. I'll get a job. But wait, won't they know I'm not really Tommy DiNardo?"

"I have had some of my more faithful contacts take care of that. All of your records have been put under the name Thomas H. DiNardo."

"What does the 'H' stand for?"

"Herman."

"Herman?!" Tony whined, obviously not fond of the name.

"Yes. It will throw people off if they start looking for you, because they know someone like you would never choose 'Herman' to be in his name. The only ones that would see our fake names and recognize that it is really us is the team."

"Good thinking! But I still don't like it. Herman…Herman..." he seemed to ponder the name before making a scrunched-up face in disgust.

"It is not really such a bad name, Tony."

Tony looked at her, a strange expression on his face.

His face quickly brightened up, however, as he remembered, "Oh yeah, I had something to say, too."

"Okay, so say it."

"We need a bed."

"I know; we will get one soon. For now, we will just have to sleep on the couch or floor."

"No way. Tony DiNozzo needs a bed. He cannot live without one."

"Your life really does center around the bed, doesn't it?" asked Ziva sarcastically.

"Hey, that was a low blow! But yes, it does. I need one."

"Fine, tomorrow you will go find a job, and I will go find a bed."

"Alright. Well, all this bed-talk has made me tired, so I'm gonna go to bed. Or couch, I guess. I'm beat!"

"Why do Americans use the word 'beat' to mean 'tired'? I suppose if you had been beaten, you may feel tired, but it does not make much sense otherwise."

"I dunno. Let it go, Ziva. The world will never know."

"Well, I am sure _someone_ knows," she said, rolling her eyes.

Tony smiled, "Good night, Ziva."

"Good night. I will be going to bed soon, too."

The two smiled at each other as Tony left the room to change and Ziva went to find a blanket to cover them as they slept on the back-destroying couch.

* * *

Well, chapter seven! The next two chapters will be good, I've got them planned out and chapter nine will be especially hilarious. We won't be going back into McGee, Abby, Gibbs, and Ducky's side of the story until at least chapter ten or eleven, but I'm gonna write a chapter focusing on Ducky and a little bit on Palmer, just because I feel they have been neglected in this story. .

Thanks for reading and please review!


	8. Tony's Day

I woke up and the first thing I noticed was that Ziva wasn't on the couch anymore. We had fallen asleep with my back against the couch and her back against my chest, so we managed to fit on the couch.

I walked into the kitchen and saw her sitting at the table, drinking coffee. It was cheap coffee that we had brought here from the hotel, as we had not been shopping yet. I mean, it was only our second day in the new house.

I pulled out the chair next to her on my way to the kitchen to get my own cup of coffee, then sat down. She asked me when I was going to start looking for a job; we had agreed I would do that today while she bought us a bed. Seriously, what kind of house comes with all the furniture except the bed?

Anyways, I said I would start looking once she left to go 'mattress hunting', and we talked about it for a few minutes. It was kind of a boring conversation, stuff about calling people and going to interviews.

Ziva went to take a shower after that. Hmm…I wonder what it would be like to be in there with her. Well, hopefully someday I'll get to find out. She's so beautiful, even with her clothes on, but I bet in the shower with the water dripping down her –okay, never mind. I'm gonna start getting too carried away, and that would not be good. Definitely not.

So, like fifteen minutes later she got out of the shower and I got in. I accidentally used her shampoo, so I had to re-wash my hair twice to get the smell out. It's a nice smell, and I love smelling it on Ziva, but since I'm going job hunting, I don't wanna smell like a woman. She made fun of me for taking a forty minute long shower, then I made us both some more coffee.

She left a few minutes after that, so I pulled out the phone book. It wasn't any help, so I decided to go to the library and use a computer. Then, I realized I didn't know where the library was, so I looked it up in the Yellow Pages. After that, I realized we only have one car, and Ziva took it to go mattress shopping. I looked in the newspaper and found out that there was a bus service that had a stop close to our neighborhood and went into the city, so I put on decent clothes, combed my hair, wrote a note for Ziva, wrote our phone number on my hand and walked to the bus stop.

I have only had to take the bus one other time in my life. When I was a kid, my dad had a chauffeur drive me to school; I had a car in college; I still had a car after college. The only other time I had ridden a bus was when my car wouldn't start in the NCIS parking garage. Everyone else had already left, except Ziva. She offered me a ride, but I was too macho to accept. I said I was fine and could fix my car; I convinced her to leave and not take me home. I tried way too hard to impress her, so I had to take the bus home and sit next to some guy who smelled like cheese. Then, in the morning, I had to call McGee to pick me up. I vowed never to ride the bus again; but now, I must. For Ziva!

I got to the library and went to a computer, but it turned out that to use it I had to get a library card. So I talked to the old librarian lady and had to fill out a form to get one. It was almost as boring as getting a driver's license. Okay, not really, but it was still really boring. Anyways, I finally got my card and got on the computer. I looked up jobs for hours! It was a long time! And finally, I made a list of jobs that I could do. Most of them were security guard jobs and other stuff like that. I wrote down all the names and numbers that I needed, then I went to the payphone outside and started calling. You know, I really need to get a cell phone. I hate payphones. They smell like busses.

The first job I called was from Third Bank, which was funny, 'cause I could see it across the street while I was talking to the guy on the phone. He thought I was calling from home, though, so he didn't think I was a hobo or anything. He said he liked my qualifications and was looking forward to seeing my resume, and that I could set up an interview for this afternoon. I made the appointment and held off calling other people, then I went into the library and typed up a resume. I printed it out and went back to the payphone to call the rest of my list.

The next call was to Wellington Security, which is pretty much a place that hires security guards and sells them to other companies that want security guards. It seemed like a nice job, a lot of benefits and stuff, but they couldn't set up an interview until next week, and the guy on the phone sounded like a snob, so I decided not to apply for that job.

I made a bunch of calls to a bunch of places that were a lot like the first two, and got three more interviews scheduled for the day. By time I finished calling it was twelve o'clock, and there was an old lady hitting the plexy-glass door because she wanted to use the phone and I was taking too long. My first interview wasn't until one, so I decided to get lunch first. I found a deli down the street and got a really big sub sandwich. It was good, I think I'll go there with Ziva sometime.

I finished my lunch, got some gum to make my breath not smell like sandwich, and went to my first interview: Economix Security Inc. It was okay, and the interviewer was nice, but they don't pay much.

Between interviews, I decided to find another pay phone and call Ziva. Then I realized that she doesn't have a cell phone either. As soon as I get my first paycheck, we are buying cell phones. Good thing I wrote her that note telling her I was in the city; she'll probably get back home way before me. I don't want her to think I was kidnapped or anything, since she's worried about Mossad finding us. Oh! Maybe one of my interviews will be by a mattress store and I'll run into her.

While doing all of this intense thinking, I was walking to my interview. I can multitask, contrary to popular belief. Third Bank was a very nice building with a lot of nice people. They gave me a soda and some cookies while I was waiting for my interview. And not the cheap stuff like 'Big K' and 'Chips Ahoy!'; no, I got some fancy-brand sparkling water and Brussels, whatever those are. It was nice.

So, they called me in for the interview right after I finished the soda and cookies, and it was great. The boss-guy interviewed me and said he loved my resume and qualifications. He said he would call me this evening or tomorrow to tell me if I got the job, 'cause he had to talk to his superiors first, and I remembered that our home number was written on my hand. Good thing nobody noticed it yet. I told him the number, trying my best not to look like I was reading it off of my hand. I think he bought it, 'cause he shook my hand and said I'd hear from him soon. Oh yeah, I think I've pretty much got a job.

I had two interviews left after that, so I went to the next one, but I didn't like it. Maybe my expectations were higher after the fancy soda and cookies from Third Bank, but SecurSale was a really crappy place. 

Everyone was all grumpy and the building was really dark. I did well in the interview, but I don't think I want that job unless it's my last option.

I had some time before my last interview, so I found a pay phone and called home to see if Ziva was back yet. I assumed she would be, 'cause it shouldn't take six hours to buy a mattress, but she didn't answer. I was worried, but there was no way I could get back there because the next bus wasn't until five and it was only four. I kept telling myself, 'Ziva's a ninja assassin! She can take care of herself!', but that didn't stop me from worrying.

I went to the fourth interview, but I don't think the interviewer liked me. He liked my resume, but I was worried about Ziva, so I was kinda rushed and jumpy during the interview. After what seemed like forever, it finally ended and I ran to catch the bus.

I got to the house and saw Ziva's car in the driveway. I also noticed the license plate was new. I walked inside and looked around for her, then figured she must be in the bedroom trying to set up the bed, or maybe even sleeping in it already. I dropped my stuff and went upstairs to the bedroom, but she wasn't there, and neither was a bed. I got worried again and went to the office to see if there was any kind of note or anything to tell me what was going on. I walked into the office and saw her sitting at the desk, writing something. She turned around, noticing my presence, and I quickly walked up to her chair and hugged her, full of relief. She looked at me funny, and I explained that I was worried that something had happened to her. She smiled. She's even more beautiful than usual when she's smiling.

I asked her where the bed was, and she replied by recalling her day to me. Suddenly, it all made sense: why she wasn't home when I called, why there was no bed, and why the license plate was new.

We had to sleep on the couch again, but it was okay, because I could hold her close to me and know that nothing bad had happened to her.

* * *

Yup, chapter eight; Tony's point of view. Nine will be funny, 'cause you get to find out why it took Ziva so long to not buy a mattress. It's Ziva's day from her point of view, and it'll be hilarious! ( I hope!)


	9. Ziva's Day

I sat up, having just awoken, and strained my neck to see the clock on the kitchen stove. It read 5:08; about the time I would usually get up on weekday mornings when I worked at NCIS. I slipped out of Tony's embrace, careful not to wake him, and went upstairs to the bedroom to find a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. After dressing I checked on Tony, who was still sound asleep, then I went for a run.

The area is not bad for a morning run. There is a park just outside of the neighborhood, and a lake with a sidewalk around it, leading to a beaten path that goes through a small forest. That route, plus a jog around the outskirts of the park to get back to the neighborhood, is about four miles. It is not near what I usually run, but maybe I will find a longer way soon.

I returned to the house at about seven and Tony was still asleep. I needed a shower, but decided to eat first. Tony had brought a box of Eggo waffles with us, so I pulled them out of the freezer and put two in the toaster. While they were toasting, I studied the box. It was covered with cartoon pictures; obviously it was meant to appeal to kids. I looked over to where Tony was sleeping and laughed softly to myself.

When the waffles were done, I did not bother to put them on a plate or get a fork to eat them with, but just ate them with my hands. We did not have any syrup, so it did not matter. After finishing the first waffle, I decided to make some coffee. I picked up the bad of cheap coffee we had brought from the hotel and made enough coffee for both me and Tony. I would have to buy some decent coffee later.

About a half-an-hour later, Tony woke up and drowsily walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down next to me at the table. We discussed our plans for the day: I would go buy a bed while Tony searched for a job. I explained to him that he would need to call different businesses and arrange interviews, and that he should put together a resume. However, I think he began to…what is the phrase…'zone out', I believe, toward the end.

I decided to take a shower after that, so I headed up to the bathroom and left Tony with his coffee and thoughts. I pulled my shampoo, conditioner, soap, and everything else I would need from the travel bag I had stuffed them in, and set them in the shower while the water warmed up. I also set Tony's things in the shower, as it took longer than expected to warm up. Finally the water was warm, though not as warm as I prefer it, and I got in.

I only spent about ten minutes in the shower, so after getting dressed, I went downstairs and Tony took a shower. Perhaps eventually we will end up taking showers together… I did not dwell on that thought long. I did not want to get distracted.

Tony took a very long time in the shower: about forty minutes! He refused to explain why, but I have a few ideas. I made fun of him, in a way similar to what we would do at NCIS, and then offered him some more coffee.

Soon after, I left to buy a bed, deciding it would be better to get it out of the way so I could have the rest of the day to sort out some things. As I walked into the garage to get in the car, I realized we still had Tony's DC license plate. I removed it and drove to the DMV, claiming it had been stolen by a group of teenagers, and the woman at the desk believed me. Apparently, it was a common occurrence. I used the new IDs my contact had provided for me, and got a California license plate registered to our aliases, the DiNardo's. They gave me a temporary license plate to use until the new one was ready, so I attached it to the car and drove off to a mattress store. The whole process took about two hours, so it was about eleven thirty when I finally was able to leave.

A few minutes later I found a Serta mattress store, so I parked the car and went in. I browsed for a few minutes until a salesman came up and asked if he could help me with anything. I told him I wanted to buy a mattress and a bed frame, and he showed me a few. He told me about the benefits of each mattress I looked at and was very helpful. The prices were a bit higher that I expected, so I decided to look in other stores and come back if I did not find anything better.

Since it was just after noon when I walked out of the store, I decided to stop and grab a bit to eat. I believe that is the phrase. I drove down the street and spotted a Chinese restaurant and decided to eat there. The food was good, so I decided I would have to bring Tony there for lunch or dinner one day.

After eating, I got back in the car and looked for the next mattress store. Three blocks away, I finally found one, and went in. A salesman greeted me at the door and helped me find the right kind of mattress and bed frame. He seemed helpful enough at first, but then he started flirting with me.

We were in the back of the store; he acted as if there were some bed frames there that would fit what I wanted. He told me I was pretty, but I disregarded it as a kind remark. Then he started using what Tony would call 'bad pickup lines', and they were. This man obviously did not have much experience with women. I moved away from him to leave, but he grabbed my arm with one hand, and my ass with the other. Big mistake. I flipped him onto the ground and twisted his arm while squeezing the pressure point in his wrist. He cried out in pain, and a few of his coworkers and some customers ran in to see what was going on. I let go of the mush-bag…mud-bag…whatever the name is, and stepped back to make it easier to resist the urge to kill him.

He got up slowly and backed away, then said something that I could not hear to one of his coworkers. The man who he spoke to then left the room. I began walking out, not wanting to be anywhere near the man who groped me, for I may not be able to resist hurting him again. and wanting to go back to the first store I visited so I could buy a bed and go home. The man who left the room earlier stopped me, saying I had to stay here, and asked two of his coworkers to restrain me. I said I did not need to be restrained, and the man was about to protest when two police officers walked into the store. They spoke to the man who had left the room, who directed them to the man who had groped me. They talked quietly, then he spoke up and said, 'That's the bitch that attacked me! I think she was tryin'a get my wallet er somethin'!'

The police handcuffed me and led me away from the crowd of people, then asked me for my side of the story. I explained what happened, that I was defending myself from being sexually assaulted, and they motioned for the man who groped me to come over to us. He was accompanied by his supervisor who, after everything was explained to him, said he could get the footage from the security cameras to see what really happened.

Fifteen minutes later, the police were leading the man to their car in handcuffs. They asked me to take my car and follow them to the station so I could fill out some forms. We arrived and they handed me some papers that I had to read and sign. They then asked for my statement and commented on my having flipped the man, and looking like it was effortless. I said I had taken a self-defense class at a gym before I moved here, and they did not question it.

I finished everything the police needed from me, then got in my car. I glanced at the clock, which read 5:01 PM, and decided all I wanted to do right now was go home and eat dinner with Tony. I navigated through the streets of the city and back to our neighborhood, then went inside. I found a note from Tony on the kitchen table, saying he had gone out to do some job-hunting, and I decided to try and get some rest on the couch. I could not get comfortable, so I went up to the office room and began writing a note to Abby. She would want to know that we are still alright, but if we called her or any of our other friends, it would make it easier to track us.

Soon after I started writing the letter, I heard the front door open and footsteps on the stairs. I knew it was Tony, I am not sure how, but I knew. He walked into the office, and I turned around to greet him. He walked to where I was sitting and wrapped his arms around me, burying his head in the crook of my neck and sighing. I gave him a questioning look when he tilted his head toward mine, and he told me that he had been worried about me and explained why. I was happy to know he really cared.

He asked me where the bed was, saying he had been in the bedroom and noticed that it was not there, so I told him what happened today: everything from going to the DMV to sitting at the police station. We went downstairs and called for takeout from the Chinese restaurant I had eaten at earlier, and I was right: he really enjoyed it.

Unfortunately, we had to sleep on the couch again, but it was alright. Tony held me very close, I think he was relieved that nothing had happened to me, and I slept very well.

* * *

Alrighty! Ziva's POV, done! Hope you like it! The next chapter will be the letter to Abby, and after that will be a Ducky chapter!

Thanks for the reviews! They make me write faster, I swear! It's motivation. Sooo...why don't you click that purpley-blue button down there?


	10. The Letter

Abby read and re-read the letter that had come in the mail not two minutes ago. The envelope had been addressed to her with the names Tommy and Lisa DiNardo in the return address, so she had ripped it open with more excitement than she would have when opening Christmas gifts. After her fifth time reading the letter, she called McGee and told him to come over, giving no explanation.

At the first knock, Abby opened the door and pulled McGee into a big hug. She handed him the letter, which he read with great anticipation:

_Dear Abby,_

_I know you are worried about me and Tommy, but we are alright. We traveled for quite a while, and then stayed in a hotel until we could find a place to live. We got a nice house in a small town just outside a big city. Tommy is searching for a job, and hopefully he will get one soon. I have found a nice place for my morning jog, it is a lot like my old one, but shorter. There is not much else to say, but that we both miss all of you._

_How have you been? And Ducky? Is McGee enjoying Cyber Crimes? I hope Gibbs' new team is not too bad, though I hope they are not too good, either. And I hope he is giving Vance hell. _

_That is all I can really write, but tell everybody that Tommy and I say 'Hi.'_

_-Lisa and Tommy DiNardo_

McGee smiled, "I can't believe they used 'Tommy' and 'Lisa'!"

Abby giggled and hugged McGee from behind, "Come on, Tim, they're the perfect codenames! We all know that Tommy and Lisa are Tony and Ziva, but other people don't!"

"I told you, the characters in my book are not based on any of you guys!"

Abby gave that look that says, 'Give it up, you can't win', so that's what McGee did. He sighed and sat down on the couch behind him.

Abby followed suit and rested her head on his shoulder. "We have to show this to Gibbs and Ducky tomorrow!"

"Yeah, they'll be happy to see it."

* * *

I'm really sorry for the shortness of this chapter! I'm writing the Ducky chapter that's coming up next, but the letter is what leads into it, so I had to get it out there.


	11. Loyalty

I reccomend reading this chapter in a British accent. It makes it sound much more Ducky-like. .

* * *

It was precisely seven o'clock when I stepped into my office on the morning of the twenty third. I glanced at the clock, as always, before setting my bag on a table and looking around for any sign that Mr. Palmer, my young assistant, had arrived before me. That particular day he had not, so I began sifting through today's tasks in my mind. I had to continue the autopsy of a man who had been shot just the previous day, I remember it because of it's peculiarity: the man was experiencing the later stages of cancer when he met his demise, and the gunshot wound to the head that killed him instantaneously actually saved him the agony he would soon have faced only days before he would have begun to face it. I believe Jethro was looking into the possibility that one of the man's dear friends might have assassinated him to eliminate the impending suffering. It is something I would call a crime of compassion. Unfortunately, the compassion involved in the crime always makes the case more stressful for Jethro; especially now while he is still mourning the loss of dear Jennifer and the removal of his team.

By time I had finished my musing, Mr. Palmer had arrived. He appeared slightly disheveled: his hair and clothes were ruffled and he seemed as though he was trying to catch his breath. This sort of behavior had become almost normal with him, but my curiosity got the best of me once more and I questioned him about his odd appearance.

"Mister Palmer, you are almost thirty minutes late! Timeliness is a good attribute to possess, you know."

Mr. Palmer took off his jacket and hung it on the rack, and while straightening his tie, answered, "I'm sorry, Doctor Mallard. I just got here. I, uh, had a rough morning. I just got here."

"So I noticed." I replied, all the while wondering why he had to make a point of having just arrived. I did, after all, see him bustle out of the elevator not two minutes ago.

"I'm really sorry. Um, so what do we have to work on today?"

I explained to him the remaining tasks we had to perform relating to Mr. Sean Miller, the man with a bullet hole in his skull, who lay in the freezer. He dutifully began his work; I am quite sure that in his mind, he felt he owed it to me to be as hard-working as he could today due to his tardiness. I put him to the task of ensuring that Mr. Miller's medical records match up with what I have found so far in my autopsy of the poor young marine.

While I was inspecting the poor man's gunshot wound, Abigail ran into my lab quickly, full of excitement to a point that I had not seen in her since the affairs of and relating to the death of Jennifer. I turned to her expecting, perhaps, information on the bullet or the gun that I could use to further my research on Mr. Miller. Instead, she asked if I would join her for lunch so we could talk. I, of course, accepted, and agreed to meet her at a local deli at about noon.

Time passed, and I found the minute hand of the clock nearing the top, trailing just behind the hour hand. I took off my gloves and cleaned up so I would look presentable at lunch. It wasn't often that I managed to go anywhere for the hour off in the middle of the day, so I was rather unprepared for today's invitation.

I drove around for a few minutes before locating the street in the address that Abigail had given me, and soon found the restaurant. It was not the type of deli I had expected, but knowing our dear Abby, I should not have been surprised. It was a small, dark place in a relatively untraveled corner. It was not specifically 'goth', but it did give me that sort of impression when I examined the old brick walls and cobwebbed ceilings on my way to the table where Abigail sat. About halfway to the table, I passed a waitress carrying a rather large plate of food to a couple who sat just a few tabled away from us. I glanced at the contents of the plate, hoping for a glimpse of the type of food served, and was taken aback by what I saw. Why, I don't think that even in all my years of traveling far and wide throughout Europe, I had ever seen such…unique…food. I did not recognize it, or have a remote idea of its nationality, but I made my way to the table nonetheless, and prepared for this unexpected culinary excursion.

Abigail greeted me cheerfully and handed me a menu. I was not sure of what to order, and questioned her about the food served there. She pointed out a wonderful, and fairly normal, sandwich from the menu, so I ordered that while she ordered a course that I had never heard of, and she began on the business that was the reason for her having invited me to join her for lunch today.

"Here," she simply said as she slid an envelope across the table. I picked it up and read the front, which claimed it was from 'Tommy and Lisa DiNardo'. I, of course, knew exactly who it _really_ was from, so I opened it and read the short monologue that Ziva had written.

I was glad to know she and Anthony were doing well but, like the rest of the team, I do miss them terribly. Anthony has been with me and Jethro for years, and I know Jethro thinks of him as a son. I very much miss Ziva; she always seemed to enjoy hearing my tales about past adventures.

I did my best to enjoy the unique food at the restaurant (I would not quite call it a deli), and went back to NCIS to resume my work with Mr. Miller. When I arrived, Mr. Palmer was nowhere to be found. I assume he was running late on his way back from lunch, so I paid no mind and soon he returned.

The rest of the day went quite normally, and after work I ventured to the bullpen where I knew I would find Jethro still hard at work, even though he had sent his team home to rest. I stopped before stepping toward him and thought for a moment; I had what one might call a vision.

I thought to myself that if Jennifer were here, she would stop by Jethro's desk on her way out and order him to go home. They both knew that although she was adamant about _him_ going home to rest, _she_ would not be doing the same thing; no, she would stay up late working. It only shows how much she cared for him. And I swear, as I thought about it, I could see it happening. I could see the image of poor Jennifer as if she were truly standing before me.

"You need something, Duck?"

I was brought from my reverie by Jethro's somewhat rhetorical question, and walked in front of his desk to face him.

"You should go home, Jethro."

Without words, he obviously disagreed, so I changed the subject in order to perhaps try a new approach.

"Did Abby show you the letter?"

"Yeah."

I nodded, sensing his reluctance to pursue the subject further. He was still recovering from Jennifer's death: a process that I knew would take a great deal of time; and thus he was still closed off from the rest of the world.

"Go home. Rest, work on your boat, do _something_. But get out of here."

I urged him to leave; I knew this place held many memories from the past few years with Jennifer as our director, and although it was the same case for his home, I knew if he was there, he may manage to sleep for awhile. Here, he would never doze off. He was always alert in this place where he met the woman he was still deeply in love with, this place that had ultimately led to her death.

Loyalty. A trait shared by the two most stubborn people I have ever known. It is what drives, or drove, them; it is what killed one, and is now draining quickly from the other. Loyalty to each other, to their friends, to those working with and around them, to anyone who deserved it. It was her loyalty to him that fueled Jennifer during her trip to that fateful diner. Because of that, Jethro has lost faith in loyalty. Not that I would expect him to be loyal to Director Vance. But to even those he is truly loyal to, the value of his loyalty, in his mind, has depleted. He ultimately blames himself for everything that has happened.

I owe it to him, and to Jennifer, to help as best I can.


	12. A Day

Tony made sure to look at the license plate that Ziva had got for his car just the day before. He did not get a chance to look at it the previous day because although he had noticed it, he was too worried about Ziva to really get a good look at it. It was a regular California license plate, but he just had to laugh to himself once he read the plate number: 'hrrybut'. He did wish for a moment that they had brought Ziva's car instead, for it would have spared him from having to drive around in a car whose license plate declared him 'Hairy Butt'. Plus, 'swtchks' might look a bit better on a license plate that 'hrrybut'.

Ziva walked out the door and Tony looked up, momentarily abandoning his thoughts about the license plate. 'Momentarily' being the key word.

"Nice plate number, Zee-vah" he complimented sarcastically.

"Well, it is your car."

Tony gave her a look that appeared to combine a scowl and a pout, then ran to the driver's side and jumped onto the seat.

"Ha! I drive!"

Ziva rolled her eyes and slid onto the front passenger's seat. She was not looking forward to part two of the bed hunt, for fear of a disaster like the previous day. Tony's reaction to the license plate number had lightened her mood slightly, but they had decided to buy the bed she had found at the store where the 'incident' happened. She was wary of going, even though she knew the pervert she had beat up would not be there.

Soon, they arrived at the store. Almost as soon as they opened the doors, the manager walked up to them and thanked Ziva for actually exposing the now ex-employee for what he really was. Apparently, he had flirted with and groped many previous female customers who had been too embarrassed or afraid to report it. As a reward, the manager offered to give Ziva and Tony a free mattress and free immediate delivery to their house. Not long afterwards, they left the store to go back home, the truck carrying their mattress and bed frame following them the way there.

In an hour, the bed was set up. Ziva went to the bathroom, and Tony sat at the kitchen table drinking a glass of water. His head was swarmed with thoughts and questions, and it took a confusing and unusually concentrated thought process for Tony to figure out why, but he finally did.

As he was drinking his water, a thought occurred to him: had he been setting up a bed with any other girl, upon finishing he would have asked if she wanted to 'test it out', or something of that nature. Just thinking about saying something like that to Ziva made him feel, well, crude was the only word he could think of. Besides, any other girl would have accepted; he was not even sure what Ziva would say. Sure, they had their massive buildup of innuendo every day at work, but she was just teasing him. She probably didn't even want to have sex with him. And he wasn't going to make himself look like a fool to the one girl he really loved and never wanted to lose.

Ziva returned and Tony thought about how Ziva interrupts his thoughts a lot. A lot of times when she's not even in the room. She just wanders into his mind every day. Then, there were those other times when she actually walked into the room. This was definitely one of those times.

She stared at the dazed look on his face, having no idea that he was dazed with thoughts of her. She thought for a few moments of how to clap, or was it snap, him out of his daze, before deciding on the method that had proven most effective. She leaned over and ran her tongue up his neck. That did the trick, and he yelped, now fully aware of what was around him and not just what was in his head.

"What the hell? Why do you keep doing that?"

Ziva put on an innocent look and feigned thought for a moment before answering, "Because it is fun," getting up, and walking away.

Tony watched her leave before coming to his senses and following her. He found her in the living room looking through his treasured movie collection; the one whose cushioned cardboard boxes took up half of the room in Tony's car on the trip from D.C.

Sensing his presence with what Tony referred to as her 'crazy ninja skills', Ziva turned around, "We should order some food and watch a movie."

Tony, of course, agreed, and after ordering a pizza from the next place in the phonebook, asked Ziva if she had any particular movie in mind. She held up the box to 'The Sting'.

"I have not seen this one, though I heard a bit about it in my film studies class," was her explanation to Tony's unasked question of why she chose that particular movie.

Tony over-exaggeratedly gaped and quickly put the movie in, claiming it was 'a classic! You must watch it, right away!'.

The pizza arrived and they began the movie while huddled close to each other under a blanket on the couch. Eventually, the movie ended, but the two were already asleep when the DVD returned to the main menu, leaving 'The Entertainer' playing until morning.

* * *

This one's a bit shorter than most, so sorry about that. I'll probably do another chapter or two (maybe three) before writing sort of a timeskip chapter that moves the story into my next plot arc. Please review, I swear it makes me write faster! Those messages in my inbox that say 'FF Review Alert' or whatever remind me to keep going! Thanks so much for reading!

I had to use The Sting as the movie that they watch, because I love it sooo much! We watched it in my AP US History class this year and I decided it was one of my favorite movies! That, the Emperor's New Groove, and Dr. Strangelove are my favorites. Plus, I love playing The Entertainer on the piano.


	13. Moments in the Passage of Time

I got the job at Third Bank; it's a great job! I only have to work until three, and I get a really good pay. Ziva's annoyed that she has to stay home and can't work, but hopefully we'll be able to go back to D.C. soon. As nice as it is here, I really miss everything back home.

* * *

I got promoted the other day. I now lead a team, instead of being the newbie. I think Tony would be proud. He'd have a field day with the people down here in cyber-crimes, though. Margaret would be his first target, I think, and I know Abby would give him more ammunition than he needs. Even though I'm Margaret's team leader, she still flirts with me. And whenever Tony would want a break from making fun of Margaret, he would probably tease Cameron, the most inexperienced on the team. He started working at NCIS just after I was transferred to cyber-crimes, and still doesn't know the first thing about it.

As cool as it is to be leading a team, I would definitely give it up to go back to how it was before.

* * *

I hate this. I am used to getting up at five every morning, going for a run, then going to work. Now, if I wake up at five, I get back home by six and have nothing to do for the rest of the day. The day Tony started his job, one of our neighbors came over and introduced herself to me. She was a typical housewife, but she seemed a little…dim, is that the word? Like she had a nail loose. I believe that is the phrase. She invited me over for a 'luncheon' with some of the other housewives in the neighborhood, and it was probably the worst experience of my life. All they wanted to do was talk about shopping, their husbands, and 'cute' men that were not their husbands. Plus, all they had to eat was small 'finger sandwiches' and cheese. What I would not give for one of those cheese steaks from that one place in D.C.

* * *

My desk phone rang, and I picked it up to hear the voice of Marty from dispatch tell me about our new case. I hung up and told my team to gear up. It took them a few minutes, as always, and by time they finished, I was already in the elevator. They got to the garage a few minutes later after waiting for the elevator to come back up and get them, and we headed out to a crime scene in Norfolk, where a woman had been stabbed.

The probies were inefficient and missed a lot, as usual. The investigation was sloppy and we did not catch the killer. He killed again. Same circumstances: a woman around the age of thirty, stabbed in the neck with a knife that has just the victim's prints on it. Again, the victim was covered with dog hair.

I was getting frustrated with my incompetent team.

* * *

"What do you think, Tony?"

I was running a series of tests, trying to break a really difficult case, and thought maybe Tony could help me. I was wrong, so I decided to ask someone else.

"How about you, Ziva?"

She didn't respond either, so I took the final sip of my Caff-Pow and started re-explaining the facts to them.

"Okay, guys. We need to be on the ball here! We need to catch the killer! So here's what we have so far: a knife with just the victim's prints on it, lodged in the victim's neck in an angle that could not have been done by the victim. She had dog hair all over her, but she doesn't have a dog. Her boyfriend does, but he has two broken arms from falling at a skateboarding competition three weeks ago, and with two broken arms, there's no way he could have stabbed her at that angle. We also-"

"Abbs?"

I looked up and saw Tim walking toward me with a Caff-Pow. I grabbed it and took a sip, then looked up at Timmy, who was staring at me.

"What?"

"You really should stop talking to those mops, Abby."

I set down my Caff-Pow and hugged him. "I miss them, Timmy…"

* * *

Life here is so boring. No catching bad guys, no teasing Probie, no head-slaps. Yes, I even miss the head-slaps! We get someone trying to steal from the bank about once a month, and they're always pushovers. Nothing compared to the killers we'd catch at NCIS.

We bought another car so Ziva doesn't have to be stuck at the house while I'm at work. She really hates having to stay home and do nothing, so she goes to the gym a lot.

We've tried every pizza place in the phonebook, and none of them are as good as the place in D.C. that I would always order from.

* * *

It has been oddly quiet lately. With the absence of Anthony, Ziva, and Timothy's bickering and messing around, NCIS is far less interesting.

Gibbs' new team is made of fools. One of them _poked_ the body with a stick! He left a mark that is now being questioned by the director, making him think I _missed_ something!

I think even Mister Palmer greatly misses the team. They were great agents, and even better friends.

* * *

I keep expecting to see some sign of Mossad wherever I go. I know they will catch up to us soon. Perhaps they will do it the easy way: just snipe me while I am driving to the gym. But I fear they will try to cause me as much pain as possible for leaving them by doing something horrible to Tony.

I hate living in fear, but I suppose it is better than not living at all. There was a time when I would not have thought that.

* * *

This is a hard case to crack. Three murders now: one in Norfolk, one in Bedford, and one in Norton. The killer is moving farther west with each kill. I hate it when forensics leads to dead ends. It shows how brilliant our killer is, but it also makes me look bad.

Vance made me shut off my music and dress like career girl Barbie again. I hate it! But at least I still have my pigtails. You know, he even said I can't bring Bert to work! How mean is that?

I'm glad I have McGee to vent to. He listens to me complain and doesn't criticize me. That's one of the things I love about him.

* * *

I got another call. Another kill. This time in Columbus, Ohio. Vance ordered us to fly out and investigate, mainly for press purposes. We did, and after tireless investigating, we hit another dead end. I told Vance that a more competent and experienced team would help a lot. He just commented on how incompetent he thought Tony and Ziva had been. He made it sound like it was their fault Jenny was dead. But it wasn't. It was Jenny's fault. She wanted it to end that way.

* * *

I eat lunch with Abby almost every day, and she comes over every night. I love it, but I hate that it's because Tony, Ziva, and the Director are gone. Once Tony and Ziva come back, if they ever do, things between me and Abby will go back to how they were before the team was split up. I want them to come back, but I love Abby.

I just wish she loved me back.

* * *

It's strange. Not having them around anymore.

Instead of Tony demanding a warrant then forgetting what it was for, Ziva not-so-gently reminding him, and McGee kindly thanking me while the other two fought, I now have to get warrants for a man who doesn't even know what a warrant is _for_, a second man who, rumor has it, is afraid of coffee, and a woman who I saw flirting with _my_ Jimmy!

Gibbs said he would get the team back somehow. I just home it happens soon. I can tell Jimmy misses them too.

* * *

So, this is pretty much a segway chapter into the future! Ooooh! No, the story just moves along about a few months starting next chapter. I've got big plans for the rest!


	14. A Turn

Ziva crouched in the front yard, digging away at the earth below her with a small shovel. She had decided to plant some flowers while Tony was at work, deciding it would make the house look a bit better. They had lived there for five months and had not done anything to the outside of the plain house.

Ziva's keen senses were still as acute as they had been half a year ago, and she was still as agile and athletic. The days of training at the gym had seen to that, and she was glad; in the beginning, she had feared she would lose her touch and be taken out by Mossad for sure.

To Ziva's relief, Mossad still had not found her and Tony. Or perhaps they had found them, but were just waiting for the most opportune moment to take action. She could not help but be worried, and always cautious. She had told Tony to be alert, just in case, but he responded by telling her not to worry so much. She knew he was just trying to look brave, and that he was just as concerned as she was, but she did wish he would tell her that instead of trying to be laid back about it.

Ziva gardened for another few hours until Tony got home. He was surprised by the garden, or by the fact that Ziva, of all people, was gardening. The two went inside to eat, and the day ended normally.

The next few days were the same way: Tony went to work, Ziva did her best to bear the torture of being a housewife, and they would spend the afternoons together when Tony got home.

Unbeknownst to them, they were being watched. Pictures were taken, conversations were heard, and they were none the wiser.

* * *

It was a few minutes until noon when Ziva got the call: Tony had been shot. She dropped the phone and ran to the car, speeding even more than usual to get there.

For what seemed like days, but was really hours, Ziva sat in the waiting room, occasionally getting up to pace. The police were talking to Tony's friend from work, a men named Gregg, while another friend of his tried to comfort Ziva to no avail. Finally, a nurse came out and called, 'Tommy DiNardo'.

Ziva shot up from her seat, Gregg and the other man close behind her, and approached the nurse.

"Who are you in relation to Mr. DiNardo?"

Ziva answered first, "I am his wife."

The other two said they were his friends.

"Mr. DiNardo took a bullet to the shoulder and another just above his elbow. There are no major complications, and he should make a full recovery in about a month." The nurse looked at Ziva, "He is sleeping right now, but you can still see him if you'd like, Mrs. DiNardo." She looked over at Gregg and the other man whose name Ziva could not remember, and said, "You have to wait."

Ziva followed the nurse down the hall and to Tony's room, while the men went back into the waiting room to be questioned by the police as witnesses.

The nurse stopped at Tony's door. "He must not sit up just yet, and no excitement."

Ziva wondered for a moment at what kind of excitement they could possibly cause, then smiled to herself and dismissed the thoughts. She opened the door and closed it quietly behind her.

Making sure to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Tony, Ziva sat down in the chair next to his bed, talking his hand in hers and stroking it with her thumb. Tears were falling down her cheeks, but she didn't make a sound.

Tony turned his head toward her when he felt her hand on his, and released himself from her soft grip to reach up and stroke her cheek. She let out a sob and reached over to embrace him. She stood by his bed, her arms around him and his arms moving slowly up and down her back. She eventually let go and Tony tried to sit up.

"Stay, Tommy." Ziva commanded, putting a hand on his chest.

"Aw, c'mon! I'm fine, Zi-lisa." He replied, almost forgetting that they could not reveal their real names, in case somebody was listening in.

"No. You need rest."

Tony made a pouty face and complied, resting on his side while Ziva sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Do you think it was them, Lisa?" Tony asked, referring to Mossad.

"I do not know. If it was, then it was a warning. They could have killed you just as easily as injured you."

"Gee, thanks for all your belief in my abilities," said Tony sarcastically.

Ziva smiled and rested a hand on his head.

Soon, Gregg and the man whose name Ziva learned was Lawrence, were allowed in the room. They talked about what the police had said in the last few hours, and Ziva made sure to listen for any indication that Mossad could be behind the shooting.

"Yeah, man, they said they found where the shooter was standin', but no prints!" explained Lawrence. He was a tall man who preferred the street-slicker look, and was considered odd to a lot of people.

"It's like ya got shot by a ghost er som'n!" That was Gregg, he spoke with a southern accent and was the opposite of Lawrence: short and clean-cut.

During the next half-hour of talking, Ziva could not be sure if Mossad shot Tony or not, though it was starting to seem like more and more of a warning from them than anything else.

"I am going to go get a drink. Do any of you want something?"

Gregg and Lawrence declined, but Tony asked for a coffee. As soon as Ziva left, the boys started talking again.

"Damn, DiNardo, how'd ya manage ta git a girl like her?"

"Yeah man, she's way out of your league."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dude, she's hot! How does a guy like you get such a catch?"

Tony and his friends kept up their 'guy talk' while Ziva navigated the hospital hallways. She stepped out of the elevator onto the first floor, home of the cafeteria, and stopped dead in her tracks. There she stood, face to face with one of the last people she ever expected, or wanted, to see.

* * *

Who could it be? I know, but you'll just have to wait until my next post! Oooh, the suspense!

I'm holding the next chapter for ransom. The price: reviews! Haha, just kidding, but reviews will make me write faster. Sorry that this is one of my shorter chapters!

Thank you all so much for reading!


	15. Unexpected

Ziva composed herself as best she could, but she saw the look of recognition the set of eyes before her, and knew she was 'in deep water', if she got the saying correct.

"Y-you work at NCIS. With…Tony…"

Ziva looked into Jeanne's conflicted eyes before answering, "Yes."

Jeanne shifted her feet, not sure of what to say next, while Ziva was equally paralyzed, a feeling she did not know how to deal with.

Finally, Jeanne spoke up. "Why are you here?" she asked, then in a much softer voice she said to herself, "I thought I got away from it all…"

"A friend of mine got shot."

Jeanne looked up a Ziva, "But why are you _here_, in California."

"I cannot tell you."

Eyebrows narrowed, Jeanne asked, "What, an undercover thing?", then her eyes widened and she added, "Is...is Tony here?"

Ziva looked at her, feeling sorry for her. She hated to admit it, but she knew just how Jeanne felt. When Tony was with Jeanne and told Ziva nothing of what was going on, she felt hurt and scared.

"We are-yes. We are undercover. I cannot tell you any more."

"We? So he is here?"

Ziva sighed, "Yes. He is the one who got shot."

A noise that sounded like a sob mixed with a gasp escaped Jeanne's lips, and she turned away.

Ziva took a futile step forward. "I am sorry. I do not know what to say."

"When he was undercover…he was with you, too, wasn't he?"

"No…he was not."

Jeanne looked up again, "But you love him."

"Yes."

"Did he run to you right after the mission was over?" Jeanne asked, her voice laced with disgust, and her intentions to slander Tony's image to Ziva more than obvious.

"No, he did not. He shut everyone out, he was heartbroken! And then you come in and accuse him of murder! Do you _know_ what that did to him?"

As Ziva spoke, Jeanne stared, her glare becoming more and more pronounced.

"Our team was split up about five months ago. He came to me that night."

"So you're dating."

"You could call it that." Ziva said, inwardly smiling.

"He'll leave you too. If he left me, there's no way he'll stay with someone like you."

Ziva's hands balled into fists, and she had to dig her nails into her palms to keep herself from murdering the woman in front of her. Instead, she just turned and walked back the way she came. After a few steps, she turned back and saw Jeanne still standing in the same spot.

"If you tell anyone who Tony and I are, or that we were here, you will be arrested."

She turned back again and walked down the hallways back to Tony's room.

She stopped in front of the door to Tony's room for a moment, wondering what she should do. Should she tell him Jeanne was here? What would he say about it? She decided he should know, so she opened the door and was relieved to find that Tony was alone in the room. There was no way she would tell him with other people around.

"Hey Ziva! Where are our drinks?" he asked, noticing her empty hands.

Ziva sat down in the seat next to Tony's bed. "Tony, I ran into Jeanne."

He looked up, surprised, and asked, "When? Just now?"

"Yes. I guess she lives here now."

"Shit. She recognized you, didn't she?! What are we gonna do now that someone knows who we are and that we're here?"

"Tony. Calm down. I made her think we are on an undercover mission and that we are still with NCIS. I told her she will be arrested if she tells anybody."

Tony took a deep breath and smiled, "Good, I was worried for a sec."

"I noticed."

Tony smiled bigger and took Ziva's hand before drifting off to sleep.

While he slept, Ziva's thoughts turned to what had just happened. Tony did not seem fazed by the news that Jeanne was here. He did not act different or anything. She knew he had loved Jeanne at one point, but after she accused him of murder, had things changed? It was not something she thought she could ask him.

"Are you okay?"

Ziva looked down at Tony, surprised, "I thought you were asleep."

"Then you must have been distracted. Wanna share?"

"Share…?" asked Ziva uncertainly as she looked around her, thinking Tony had meant share some M&Ms or something, before realizing he meant her thoughts. "Oh, it was nothing."

Tony looked at her for a few moments before settling back down onto his pillows and closing his eyes.

"When you do wanna talk about it, just tell me."

Ziva smiled and tightened her hold on Tony's hand, one thought vaguely voicing itself in her mind as she drifted off to sleep as well.

_I hope that disregarding this encounter does not come back to sting me in the butt. Or was it bite? Claw?_

* * *

Ha...even as she drifts off, Ziva must use an incorrect phrase. I'm not too fond of how this chapter turned out, but I guess I'll have to deal with it.

The next chapter follows the one and only Silver-Haired Fox. And his pathetic excuse for a team. And the amazing Abby and her Labby! And McGeeky McGee.

It's all coming together! A few more chapters and BANG! Something (hopefully) unexpected will happen.


	16. More Dog Hair

_Riiing…riiing…_

Gibbs forcefully pulled the phone off the receiver on his desk and gruffly answered, "Gibbs."

His 'team' looked up from their desks, but quickly looked away and pretended to be doing something productive when Gibbs slammed the phone down.

"Gear up. Now."

Since the probies had such trouble learning that when Gibbs says something, he means _now_, Gibbs has started tacking the word onto the end of every command. For good measure.

Their reaction time was getting better, though Wesley always hung back, making sure the other two Agents were between him and Gibbs, or more specifically Gibbs' coffee.

When Gibbs started walking toward the stairs instead of the elevator, the three probies stopped and looked at each other, obviously very confused.

"MTAC," was the only thing Gibbs offered to his confused team, and they jogged to catch up with him once they realized he meant that MTAC was where they were going.

Gibbs used the retina scanner then opened the door. He walked into MTAC, his team close behind.

He had become so accustomed to seeing Jen's beautiful red hair as he walked into MTAC, and her turning to greet him with her smile, that being in MTAC now made him feel like he didn't belong. Like it was all a part of some other agency.

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts and approached Vance.

"Director."

"Agent Gibbs, we need to talk about the Dog Hair case."

"Sir?"

"That's the name the media's given to the last three murders your team has investigated."

"I see. What about them?"

"Well, the killer's killed again."

"Then shouldn't we be investigating it, sir?"

"Yes. I want you and your team to fly out to Charleston, West Virginia to investigate the latest murder. But keep it quiet. Whether you catch the guy or not, I want it to seem like there is no threat, like everything's taken care of. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

Gibbs headed out of MTAC, resisting the urge to barge back in and strangle Vance. His team followed him, having absolutely no idea what was going on. Eventually, they realized they were going to the air pad, presumably to catch a plane. But with Gibbs as boss, you can never be too sure about anything.

The team was relieved when they did indeed board a plane and Gibbs finally explained what was going on.

Gibbs was quiet the whole plane ride. He was thinking. Contemplating. Solving. This case was bothering him. That's what he told himself. But he knew it wasn't the case. He could not get Jen out of his head. She haunted his dreams and thoughts with her flaming red hair, green eyes, and her coy smile.

For the rest of the flight Gibbs thought of Jen, the case having been temporarily forgotten in his mind. Once they arrived in Charleston, however, he snapped back into Agent-mode.

The county sheriff was waiting at the scene, and Gibbs went to talk to him while his team got to their jobs of bagging and tagging, sketching, and taking pictures. The day went by without any mistakes or mishaps; by nightfall the body was laying on one of Ducky's autopsy tables in D.C., and the evidence was in Abby's lab.

Gibbs and his team were in the bullpen, following leads and researching the victim, when Vance walked down from his office.

"Remember to keep this one quiet, Agent Gibbs."

"Of course, sir."

Vance walked back up the stairs and Gibbs clenched his hands into fists, thinking about how careless and ignorant the new Director was. He would jeopardize the safety of the people just to look good on the news. The people should know that a killer is on the loose so they can be prepared! Instead of warning them, Vance chooses to make it look like he has singlehandedly solved the problem. Gibbs hates him for that, among other things.

* * *

A week passed, and two more women had been found dead. The killer was getting quicker, more confident. That was bad.

So far, the press hadn't gotten wind of the murders, but Vance was still pressuring Gibbs to hurry up and close the cases, whether they caught the murderer or not.

Gibbs' mood had gotten worse and worse over the last week; after five days, he even stopped brining Abby Caff-Pow. His thoughts had been drifting toward a certain red-head lately, definitely a lot more than they should have. He hadn't been able to visit her grave often because he was so frequently out of D.C. investigating the 'Dog Hair Case', as everybody but himself called it now.

The latest victim was just like the first six: a woman around thirty years old, stabbed in the neck by a knife with only her prints on it, dog hair clinging to her clothes. The only problem was that she had red hair. Gibbs could not look at the body without remembering the diner: blood pooling around a card 

labeled 'Shepard', where he could picture her body laying as she took her last breath. Ducky was understanding and did not show Gibbs the body while explaining the autopsy, knowing what it did to him. His team, however, was clueless and did not know why their boss seemed to be more tense than usual.

The investigation went on, and soon a seventh body was found, this time in Rapid City, South Dakota. Gibbs got the call, but so did Vance, and so he once again lectured Gibbs about the secrecy of the case, and Gibbs once again resisted the urge to kill the self-centered director on the spot.

"Grab you gear. Now."

The team knew to expect a plane ride.

* * *

I really don't like this chapter...sad. And I didn't manage to get any Abby or McGee in it! Sorry!

Next chapter is back with Ziva and Tony, then the chapter after that will have a big surprise!

Thanks for all the reviews! Five more and it'll be 100! So exciting!!


	17. Confusion

It had been five days since Tony was shot, and three since he had been discharged from the hospital. Everything had gone back to normal, but Tony noticed that Ziva seemed different…more distant than she had been the last few months. He wanted to talk to her about it, to help her, but he wasn't sure how; every time he tried to bring it up, she would change the subject and seem even more distant.

They sat at the kitchen table one morning, and Ziva was especially quiet. It was unnerving to Tony, so he tried to bring her out of it. He got up from his seat and lifted her chin so she was looking him in the eye. She quickly looked away.

"Ziva, please look at me!"

She responded by grabbing his wrist and wrenching his arm away from her, then running upstairs. Tony watched her run up the stairs and turn into the bedroom, before slamming his fist on the table and going after her.

Once he reached the bedroom, he looked around noticed the bathroom door was closed. When he approached the door, he heard sobbing on the other side. As much as he wanted to use the lock-picking skills Ziva had taught him not long ago to open the door and comfort her, he knew it is not what she wanted, and that leaving her alone with her thoughts was the best decision. She was not one who readily accepted help of any kind, so Tony decided to give her time and hope she would open up to him soon.

* * *

I sat crying, my back against the bathroom door. I regret pushing Tony away, but my whole life I have been trained to never reveal my emotions, my weakness. I could not have Tony see me cry, even thought I want nothing more than for him to comfort me. Crying about my confusion, my love, my doubt, my fear…that is something I never would have done when I was a Mossad operative. I would not have become confused, I would not have fallen in love, I would have doubted nothing, and if I had feared, I would have died. But now, after making friends, realizing that I can be loved, everything that I used to think has changed. Although fear, confusion, and doubt are things that I hate and that truly scare me, I would not give them up to be who I was in Israel, because that would mean giving up love as well, and now that I have it, I do not want to be apart from it. I do not want to be apart from Tony.

I am so confused about him. Does he still love Jeanne? Does he love me?

I love him so much.

I cannot help but doubt myself, am I really good enough for him? Am I what he wants?

I am so afraid that I might lose him.

I do not know how to cope with these thoughts and feelings, and that it what is killing me. I do not know if I should tell him what I am thinking. What if it is true and he does not love me? What if he thinks I do not trust him and it drives him away?

I hear him on the other side of the door, then I hear him walk away. Part of me wants him to stay, to try to talk to me. The rest, however, is glad that I do not have to face him just yet.

It has been days since I have looked him in the eye, and it seems like far too long.

* * *

A week went by. Neither looked at the other, except when the other wasn't looking. They both missed each other.

* * *

Tony hoisted the bag over his shoulder and walked to the garage door.

"What are you doing?"

He turned to see Ziva standing behind him, still not making eye contact.

"The doctor said you should not lift things for at least another week."

She walked up to him and took the bag, then walked past him into the garage. He watched her as she put the bag in the plastic bin and wheeled it onto the end of the driveway. She turned to walk back, and he made it look like he had walked off just after she took the bad.

She stopped at the door frame and stared at the floor for a moment, hating her thoughts and loving Tony.

She walked into the living room where Tony was sitting watching TV. She glanced out the window at the darkening sky and as she was about to look away, she noticed a car parked in front of their house, but on the other side of the street.

Realization dawned on her, and her muscles stiffened. Tony looked at her, noticing her distress, and for the first time in over a week, they looked each other in the eye.

"Tony. I need you to go to a room in the back of the house. One with more than one way to get out, okay?"

"What are you talking about, Ziva? What's wrong?"

"JUST GO! NOW!"

Tony got up and walked quickly toward the kitchen, knowing there was no way he could convince Ziva to let him stay. He didn't even know what was going on, but he trusted her enough to do as she said.

Ziva cautiously opened the front door and walked outside into the cool night air. She crossed the street and approached the car. A click was heard as the doors unlocked, prompting Ziva to pull open the passenger side door and slide onto the leather seat.

"Aba."

"Ziva."

"If you are going to kill me, do it now and do not hurt Tony."

"You love him."

"Yes, though it is a feeling I do not expect you to understand."

"I understand, Ziva. I have raised three children."

"Yes, two of which are buried due to your neglect!"

The older man looked down as Ziva gazed at the back of the seat in front of her.

"I am not going to kill you, or him."

Ziva looked at her father.

"You are right; I have been careless and two of my children have lost their lives because of it. I am, however, offering you a chance to come back to Mossad."

"No. America is my home now."

It took the man a moment to respond, as if he was contemplating something.

"I see. But in leaving Mossad, you leave Israel and you family."

"My family is here."

"Very well. Shalom, Ziva."

Ziva opened the door and steadily walked back to the house. She heard the car drive off, but did not look back. There was no looking back now.

She crossed the threshold into the house and ran into the kitchen where she found Tony sitting on the floor against a row of cabinets. She ran into his arms and cried into his chest, all the while he comforted her by gently rubbing his hands over her back. She eventually calmed and told him everything she had been thinking about for the last week, and everything that had just happened. It was the first time she was ever able to open herself up to someone, and she loved it.

She kissed Tony for the first time since he had been released from the hospital, and the next morning woke up beside him, her body pressed against his as he held her.

* * *

Alrighty, so no more Mossad! Yesss! So what'll happen next with these two?

The next chapter is back with Gibbs, and there's a big surprise (well, I'm hoping it comes as a surprise) so look forward to it!


	18. Jennifer

NCIS had managed to spare a chopper for the flight to Rapid City from D.C. in order to get Gibbs and his team there faster. SecNav was not happy with how the case was going when it had so much press coverage, and Vance wanted nothing but to protect his reputation, so the team was in South Dakota on the pretense that there was a different case in order to make it seem as though the serial killer had been caught.

Gibbs jumped out of the chopper followed by his team. A black SUV was waiting for them, and a local LEO gave him the keys, the address of the crime scene, and the name of the officer who would meet them once they got there.

Being more on edge than usual led to more erratic driving by Gibbs, to the dismay of his team. The twenty minutes the LEO said it would take to get to the crime scene was reduced to ten, and as soon as they arrived, Brookes rushed to the nearest bush to vomit.

Meanwhile, Gibbs walked up to the nearest uniform, a tall, skinny man with large sunglasses.

"I'm looking for Officer Benton."

The man chuckled and replied, "Well, you're lookin' at 'im! You must be Agent Gibbs."

"Yup. What've we got?"

"Well, there's a dead woman inside, if that's what you mean. Same M.O. as that Dog Hair Killer, or whatever they're callin' 'im."

"Alright. My team will take over from here."

"Good. My department is swamped. Nice meetin' ya, Agent Gibbs!" said Benton as he waved and walked away, calling for his officers to pack up.

"Wesley: bag and tag! Brookes: take pictures! Tirel: sketch! Now!"

The team got to their jobs, and Gibbs walked up to the body as Brookes took pictures of it. By the look on her face, she was obviously repulsed, causing her to be shaky. Gibbs wondered how she ever became an NCIS agent, then took the camera from her and sent her to talk to the victim's friend, who had found her body.

Since the red-haired woman was found, Gibbs couldn't help but think of Jenny lying dead in the diner whenever he saw a body, even if the deceased was a blond, or brunette, or any other hair color. Of course, it didn't help that the victim's name in this case was Jennifer. Never the less, he took pictures of the body and supervised it being placed in a bag and packed up to be sent to Ducky.

"Umm…Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned around to address Brookes, "What?"

"The girl's friend saw a man run from the house and drive away in a blue car…she said the guy had black hair and glasses..."

"Get a sketch artist up here and see if the friend remembers enough to get a good sketch."

"Yes Gibbs!"

The woman was able to provide enough detail for a sketch, and less than an hour later, Gibbs had already gotten a lead on the suspect. A woman called the information line saying he had seen a man who looked like the one in the sketch, drinking at a local bar. Gibbs took Wesley with him to the bar and found the woman sitting on a bench outside. She pointed the man out and gave Wesley her contact information while Gibbs went inside to pick the man up.

Gibbs tapped the man on his hoodie-clad shoulder. "NCIS. What's your name?"

"I'm Chris MacDonald, nice to meet'cha. What's En-See-Eye-Ess?" he replied, drawing out the agency's name as he said it.

"Naval Criminal investigative Service. I need you to come with me."

The man hopped down from his barstool. "Okay, but I'm not a Marine or nothin', so what do the Navy Cops want with me?"

Gibbs led the man to the car, and once the doors were closed, he replied, "You're a murder suspect."

"What? Murder? No way!"

MacDonald kept asking questions and explaining his innocence the whole way to the local police station, but Gibbs wouldn't talk to him, and as much as Wesley wanted to, he knew it would result in a head-slap, and he didn't like Gibbs touching him since his hands are probably covered in coffee germs.

Gibbs walked into the interrogation room about twenty minutes later, and MacDonald lifted his head from where it was resting on the table in front of him.

"So what's going on here?"

"You know her?" asked Gibbs, tossing a photo of the dead woman onto the table as he sat down.

"No…" was all that came out of MacDonald's mouth.

"No?"

"No. I mean yes. I mean…I know her, but she can't be dead!"

"She is."

MacDonald slammed his head down on the table.

"Hey. How do you know her?"

MacDonald looked up slightly. Gibbs knew by looking in his eyes that he was innocent.

"She is…was… my fiancé."

Gibbs left the room and motioned toward Tirel, who looked up. "Let him go."

"What? But he could be the murderer! He pretty much matches the description, except the glasses!"

"He's not the guy. Let him go."

"Yes Gibbs…" Tirel went to the small interrogation room to show MacDonald out of the building.

Gibbs hit his fist against a nearby desk, causing Brookes and Wesley to jump back.

"I'm going for coffee. Keep working."

Gibbs walked down the streets of Rapid City, looking for a good coffee place. He passed many small cafés, but he knew in his gut which places had good coffee, and none of them did. He spotted a 'Hot Fresh Coffee' place down the street and headed toward it.

He recalled how he used to make his own coffee and not settle for anything else, until a mission in Paris when Jenny had forced him to try the coffee at this place, claiming it would be up to his standards, and he had reluctantly agreed. Now it was all he drank, aside from bourbon, of course. It was just one of the many ways Jenny Shepard had influenced his life.

As he approached the tables at the outside of the café, he had to look away as the back of a head of red hair caught his gaze. He was thinking about Jenny more than ever before, and he didn't want to be reminded. As he passed the table where the red-head sat, he couldn't help but look at her, just to snap himself out of his Jenny-related thoughts by bringing in the inevitable disappointment of seeing a red-haired woman that wasn't Jenny and wishing so hard that is was her.

He stopped in his tracks, almost falling as his eyes took in the familiar soft lips and green eyes of Jennifer Shepard.

* * *

Well, chapter 20 will be the continuation of this epic event! Gibbs' coffee cups always say 'Hot Fresh Coffee' on them, so I just used that as the cafe name. Not as eloquent as Starbucks, but if Gibbs likes it, it must be good!

Chapter 19 will be back with Tiva, and we'll find out why Tony got shot!


	19. Shooter

Ziva lay in bed, shoulders propped up on her pillow, staring at Tony's peaceful sleeping face.

"Penny for your thoughts…"

Ziva's face flashed a look of surprise before smiling down at her lover.

"Are my thoughts only worth a penny?"

"Huh? No! It's just, well, that's the saying…but-"

Ziva cut him off with a soft kiss.

"I know. I was just messing with you."

Tony stuck his tongue out at her then asked, "But really, what were you thinking about?"

Ziva sighed, "If Mossad did not shoot you, who did?"

"Geez, I didn't think about that…"

Ziva reached her hand over to stroke Tony's cheek. "Let's not worry about that now. Let's just get some sleep, okay?"

Tony wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. "Good night, Ziva."

* * *

The small room was illuminated by one dim lamp, and if anyone had bothered to look through the gap in the curtains, all they would have seen were two shadowed silhouettes.

"You were supposed to shoot the _woman_, not Tony!"

"Well you weren't very specific, lady. You didn't pay me to be smart."

"Well, there's an extra ten thousand in it for you if you if you kill that Ziva woman. Don't just injure her like you did Tony."

"Ten grand? Deal! She'll be dead by time the liquor stores open on Monday!"

"Good."

* * *

Tony and Ziva walked through the mildly crowded downtown streets, Tony eating a hot dog, and Ziva an ice cream cone. They had spent most their Sunday window shopping and enjoying each other's company and were now headed back to their car so they could drive home and spend the evening in.

Ziva was enjoying her ice cream, and Tony couldn't keep his eyes off her. She playfully scolded him for being a pervert, but they both knew she was enjoying torturing him as much as he was enjoying being tortured. Ziva looked up, stopping mid-lick, to Tony's disappointment. Her gaze followed the horizon, scanning the rooftops of the nearby buildings.

"What's up, Ziva? Ninja-senses tingling?"

"I do sense something, but I am not sure what. I just have one of those feelings, like Gibbs' gut."

The two stepped onto a small empty back street and Ziva motioned for Tony to be quiet.

Her eyes widened quickly and she jumped onto Tony, pushing him and herself to the ground behind a dumpster.

A gun shot was heard, and a bullet hit the dumpster immediately after.

"What the hell's going on?"

Ziva got off of Tony and into a crouching position before answering, "I think it is the same person who shot at you at the bank."

Ziva saw a shadow move through a door that was probably the back door to the abandoned-looking apartment building in front of them. She jumped out from behind the dumpster and tackled the man to the ground, pulling his arms behind his back with one hand and pulling his gun away with the other. Tony came out from behind the dumpster as Ziva smashed the man's face against the pavement and turned him over onto his back.

"Who are you?"

The man spat some blood and dirt out of his mouth and answered, "Nobody."

Ziva slapped him and asked, "Why are you after Tony?"

"I'm not."

Ziva slapped him again. He smiled wickedly.

"I'm after you." He freed one of his hands from Ziva's grip and swiftly pulled a knife from his belt, swinging it toward her torso. She held out her arm, knowing it would be better to be stabbed there than in the chest or stomach, but the sharp pain she was expecting never came. She looked up from the man's face, which had contorted into a look of pain, and turned her head to her left. Tony was holding the lid of one of the metal garbage cans that were lining the street on top of the man's arm, smashing it at an odd angle onto the pavement.

She took a deep breath and smiled, before turning back to the man and asking him his reasons for wanting her dead.

"Hey, I don't have any, lady. I'm just a hired hand."

Ziva narrowed her gaze. "Who hired you?"

"I don't remember her name, but it was French, I think. And I'm pretty sure she's a doctor, she definately had alot of money to put into this hit."

Ziva looked at Tony, who asked the man: "Was her name Jeanne Benoit?"

"Yeah, that rings a bell."

Ziva got off of the man, and as soon as he got up to run, she slammed him against the brick wall, knocking him out. She then pulled out her cell phone and called 9-1-1, reporting a shooting and giving their location. When she was done, she turned to Tony and grabbed his hand. The two rushed out of the street and onto the main road where their car was parked, then got in and drove off.

Ziva looked over at Tony and smiled to herself, happy that they were both okay.

"I think it is time we went back home."

"Isn't that where we're going?"

"I mean our real home, Tony; back in D.C."

"Good, 'cause I've missed Parapito's Pizza so much!"

Ziva laughed to herself.

* * *

Next chapter: is it really Jenny, or has all that coffee finally made Gibbs' brain malfunction?

By the way, I'm going on vacation for about 10 days, leaving uber-early Wednesday morning. I will update with chapter 20 on Tuesday night, and I'll try to update once or twice while I'm gone.

Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews!


	20. Coffee

_He stopped in his tracks, almost falling as his eyes took in the familiar soft lips and green eyes of Jennifer Shepard._

And there she sat; he was sure he was dreaming. After pinching himself, blinking, and rubbing his eyes several times, he decided she must be real. Either that or he was truly going crazy. He leaned against the wall behind him, unsure of what to do. Should he approach her?

She reached out for the coffee in front of her, and looked up as she brought the cup to her mouth, stopping short as she saw him standing there, staring. Their eyes met and though he was too far away to hear her whispered voice, he could see the words leaving her lips.

"Shit."

He walked over and took a chair next to her at the little table, not saying anything, just watching.

She shut her magazine and set her coffee back down on the table.

"I suppose you want an explanation?"

He still didn't speak.

"Look, I'm sorry, Jethro." She said, looking down at her hands, which were folded together on her lap.

She felt his tender hand slide onto her cheek and turn her head up to face him.

"Why, Jen?"

She wanted to look down, but Jethro's hand on her cheek made it impossible, so she looked off to the side.

"To protect you," she began softly, "Svetlana contacted me; she said we would both pay for disbanding her group in Europe. I arranged to meet her so we could talk. I was going to try to kill her before she killed me, so I could save you. I knew I would die."

"Then how are you still here? Ducky autopsied your body; it was you! He couldn't have mistaken someone else for you. He wouldn't have made that mistake."

"Do you remember when I told you about my older sister?"

"Yeah. I never got to meet her."

"I wish you had…but when I said she was my _older_ sister, I kind of, well, mislead you…"

She looked into his questioning eyes, then closed her own as she continued.

"She was older than me, but only by a few minutes. She was my twin."

"Was?"

"She was the one who died in the diner. The blood tests I was having Ducky run were hers, not mine; she had ALS, I don't. I called her after I made my decision to confront Svetlana, I needed her to help me take care of some things before I went. She realized that I wasn't planning on making it out alive, and pestered me to let her go instead. I didn't want her to go…she didn't deserved to die…she deserve so much more out of her life."

"Then why did you let her go?" asked Gibbs, concern and sympathy obvious in his soft voice.

"She convinced me. She said I have too much to live for, that I can't die now."

"But why did you leave and make everyone think that you're dead?"

Jenny sighed, "Svetlana…"

"-is dead."

"I know, but she wasn't the only one. She had a new partner. One who wants me dead, because he believes I killed her. If I stayed in D.C., he would have done everything to ensure that I pay, but he thinks I'm dead, so he has no reason to hurt you or anyone else that I'm close to."

By then, tears had formed in the corners of Jenny's eyes and she was trying her best to hold them back.

She felt Jethro's warm embrace, and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.

He gently whispered, "Tell me about her."

Jenny looked up at him, not understanding what he meant.

"Your sister."

Jenny smiled. "She was perfect. She always knew what I was feeling, and how to make me feel better if I was sad or angry…I could tell her anything, so I told her everything. In some ways, we were the same: we dressed the same without meaning to, we like the same food…but we were also really different. She would've hated you…" she paused to laugh, before explaining, "She didn't like any of my boyfriends, even in high school. I don't know if they just weren't her kind of guys, or if she was being overprotective."

Jethro held her tighter, and she continued, "She was a cop in Vermont. She didn't want to move up in the ranks, she just wanted to help people. She sucked at politics," Jenny chuckled, "and she loved the small town life. That's mostly where we were different."

Jenny stayed in Jethro's arms and the two embraced in a comfortable silence, forgetting the noise around them.

_Beepbeep…beepbeep…beepbeep_

Jenny broke free from his arms and hit a button on her watch.

"I have to go…"

"No…why?" Jethro grabbed her hand as she stood up.

She sighed, "I need to go pick up one of those things I have to live for."

He held her hand tighter, "What do you mean?"

She looked at the ground. "Do you want to come with me?"

Jethro noticed she had avoided the question, but decided not to press the matter, figuring he would find out what she was talking about soon enough. "Of course."

"So, why are you in South Dakota?"

"A case."

"All the way out here?"

"Serial killer. Killing marine women. Started in D.C. and moved west."

"It's not that Dog Hair killer, is it?"

"It is."

"Vance's press release made it sound like he'd been caught already!"

"Vance is a lying bastard."

"At least he put the best team out on the case."

"Not quite. He sent Tony to a boat, McGee to cyber-crimes, and Ziva back to Israel."

"No. He couldn't!"

"He did. Ziva went into hiding from Mossad, and Tony quit to go with her."

Jenny let out a sigh of relief, "So Ziva's not in Israel."

"Nope."

"Good. I'm glad she didn't go; there's a chance that her father knows the truth about Ari's death, and he would kill her for it."

"How do _you_ know the truth?"

"What, you think Ziva wouldn't tell me?" she scoffed.

"I dunno."

Jenny smiled and pulled the car into a parking spot. Gibbs looked up and realized they were at a school.

"I'll be right back."

Gibbs wasn't sure what to think. Obviously, his first impression would be that Jenny was here to pick up her kid, but she doesn't have a kid! Does she? No, he would have noticed!

The door opened and Jenny sat back down on the driver's seat. She turned to Jethro, then to the back of the car, where a little red-haired girl was buckling her seat belt.

"Allie, this is my friend Jethro. Jethro, this is Allie, my daughter."

"Hi Jethro!"

Gibbs felt like he was stuck in time before he was able to finally answer, "Hi Allie."

Allie was quite the talkative little girl, as Gibbs soon found out.

"What's your full name?"

Jenny smiled and whispered, "She did a project on the origin of her name for school last month and ever since then, she's been asking people their full names."

Gibbs looked over his shoulder to the back and answered, "Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Allie giggled, "You don't look like a Leroy!"

"Well, I guess that's why people call me Jethro." replied Gibbs, smiling.

"Jethro's a cool name! It sounds like a wizard!"

"A wizard?"

Allie giggled again, "Do you like ponies?"

Gibbs could feel the memories of Kelly flooding him; she had loved ponies too.

"Yeah. When I was a kid, my grandparents had a few horses."

"Not horses! _Ponies!_ There's a difference! Ponies are smaller. Most people don't know that, but I do, 'cause I did a project about ponies last year."

She talked the whole way to Jenny's house, and Jethro listened. However, every once and a while, he could not help but become distracted and wonder about Allie's crystal blue eyes.


	21. Cover

"So Ziva…since we don't have to worry about Mossad anymore, when do we get to go back home?"

She didn't respond.

"Zee-vah?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking…"

"About?"

"If Jeanne was behind you getting shot at the bank, then she must have known we were here! But how did she know?"

"Damn, that's a good question," he moved behind her and put his arms around her waist, "but let's not worry about it now. I really wanna go home."

Ziva placed her hands on top of Tony's, "Okay. It will take a few months, though."

"Why?"

"Well, we have to put up the illusion of selling the house, invent a pretense for leaving, and take care of everything else associated with moving while making it seem like we are still the completely normal DiNardo's."

"Why? Mossad isn't after you anymore, so the covers don't matter anymore!"

"We cannot make the covers just disappear. It will raise too much suspicion, and if we get caught, we could be accused of fraud."

"Really? 'cause that sucks! Can we at least call Abby and McGee now?"

"Yes, in fact, let's do that now."

"Yess!"

Tony grabbed the phone and called Abby's cell phone, making sure to put it on speaker. After a few rings, she answered.

"Abby Scuito, super awesome forensic scientist! What can I do for you?"

Tony and Ziva laughed before Ziva was able to say, "Abby, it is us, Ziva and Tony."

They heard a shriek and a cracking noise, "Sorry, I dropped the phone…I'm so excited to hear from you!"

"It is good to hear your voice, Abby."

"Aww! I'm hugging you both in my mind right now! When are you guys coming back! We miss you!"

"We'll be back in a few months; we have to take care of some things here before we leave."

"Okay…by the way, Tony, some creepy guy moved into your apartment."

"Well, I won't be living there anymore when we get back. It's not big enough for two people."

Abby screamed, "You mean you guys are gonna live together?!"

Tony looked at Ziva, who smiled and answered, "Yes, Abby, we are."

Abby screamed again, and Tony and Ziva heard 'Abby! Are you alright?'.

"Yeah! I'm talking to Tony and Ziva!"

"Huh? Oh, hi! It's good to hear from you guys!"

"Hey Probie, how's it going down in cyber-crimes?"

"Well, you would find so many ways to torture and make fun of them, that you would run out of the energy to do it!"

"Sounds horrible."

"It is."

"How's Gibbs?"

"He's in South Dakota, investigating a serial killer. He's been doing better lately, though. He's kinda almost back to his normal self."

They talked for about an hour before Abby and McGee had to hang up. An hour away from work was not smiled upon by Vance, though it's not like he ever smiled at anything, and he had his assistant hound them until McGee got back to cyber-crimes and Abby got back to analyzing samples from the Dog Hair case.

"Shoot!"

Ziva turned to look at Tony, who was in the kitchen making lunch. "What? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, there was something that I was gonna ask Abby when we were on the phone with her, but I forgot!"

"What were you going to ask her?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing just means it's something you do not want to say."

"I'll tell you later."

Ziva sighed, "Fine."

Tony set two plates on the table and he and Ziva ate their lunch, both thinking about how much they want to get back to D.C.

* * *

Just a lame filler chapter...the next few are about Gibbs, Jenny, and Allie.

Just so you know, since I'm on vacation, I'm typing all my stuff on my PDA which doesn't have spell-check, so I'm sorry for any errors.


	22. Discovery

"Hey, Jethro! I wanna show you my room, 'kay?"

Jethro looked at Jenny, as if asking for permission to agree to her daughter's request. She nodded her head slightly, a subtle gesture that had always been able to speak volumes between the two of them.

"Sure, let's go."

"Yay!"

Jenny could hear Allie talking excitedly to Jethro as she watched them head up the stairs to Allie's room. The two of them together was something Jenny thought she would never see. She wondered now if Jethro had figured out that Allie was his.

'_All he would have to do is look at her eyes and he would recognize them as his own._'

She sighed and walked into the kitchen to sit at the table while she waited for Allie to finish giving Jethro the grand tour of her pink plushie-filled room.

'_I know this must be hard on him; he must be thinking of Shannon and Kelly. Allie's the same age that Kelly was when..._'

She heard the unmistakable sound of Allie bounding down the stairs and sliding with her socks across the wood floor, stopping by pressing her hands against her mother's legs.

"Mommy!"

"Do you have homework tonight?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Jenny checked for Allie's eye-tell, the same as her own, but didn't see it.

"Okay, good." She ruffled Allie's hair.

"Can Jethro stay for dinner?"

"Honey, I don't th-"

"Please?"

"Al, I think J-"

"Pleeeaaase?!"

Jenny looked up at Jethro, silently asking if he wanted to stay. His slight smile told her his answer.

"Okay, hun."

"Yay!" she turned to Jethro and grabbed his hand, "C'mon, you can help me with my puzzle! It's a thousand pieces, and it's of ponies!"

Jethro smiled as Allie led him into the living room, leaving Jenny to make dinner. The thought of the last time Jen made him dinner entered his head, but the images of the charred black...what ever it was, and the salad that he could have sworn was soup left his head as Allie tugged on his hand.

"See? Me and mommy got the whole outside of the puzzle put together!"

"Wow, that's very good."

"Yep. Mommy's really good at puzzles. She said that I am, too."

"Well, why don't you show me how to be good at puzzles. I've never been good at them."

Allie giggled. "Okay! I'll teach you. First, you have to get all of the edges put together, but that's easy, because one side of all the edge pieces is flat. Except the corners. They have two flat sides, see?"

"Okay, so what do you do now?"

They worked on the puzzle for almost an hour, Allie giving Jethro tips every few minutes, and feeling very proud of herself. Jenny watched them for a few minutes from the doorframe before telling them that dinner was ready. Jethro gave her a wary look a they walked to the table. She figured he was probably thinking about the last time he ate her cooking. She smirked.

They sat down at the table and Jethro was surprised at the really good-looking Chicken Malognaise, his favorite. It had been a long time since he had eaten it; he recalled it being almost a decade ago, when Jen had attempted to cook it for him. He had taken a few bites so as not to hurt her feelings, but she quickly realized her food was horrible, to say the least. They ended up skipping dinner that night...

"Yay! Chicken, my favorite! You're the best, Mommy!"

Allie smiled at Jenny, who smiled back, before digging in to her food.

After dinner, Allie convinced Jenny and Jethro to play a game of 'Sorry' with her.

"Yes! I'm so close to winning!"

Allie had all but one of her pieces in the 'safe zone', and to get that last piece in all she had to do was roll a three.

"I'm pretty close, I could still beat you, you know!"

"Nuh-uh! I'm gonna win, mommy!"

She rolled the dice...

"Three! I win!"

Jenny laughed, "Well, at least I didn't do the worst."

They both looked over at Jethro, who hadn't gotten any pieces in the 'safe zone'.

"Hey, give me a break, I'm new at this!"

"Let's play Yahtzee next!"

"No, honey, it's bed time."

"Awww, mom, just one more game? Please?"

"Nope. You need to get to bed, you have school tomorrow."

"Fine..." Allie started on her way to the stairs.

"I'll come tuck you in in a minute, okay hun?"

"Can you both tuck me in?"

Jenny wasn't sure what to say, but she didn't have to respond because Jethro did.

"Okay."

She looked at him, surprised, as he began putting away the board game, not noticing her, or pretending not to.

"Jethro?"

He started up the stairs, turning around once he reached the top.

"You coming?"

It had been so long since Jenny had seen such a true smile on his face. She headed up the stairs and they walked shoulder to shoulder down the hall to Allie's room.

When they walked in, they found Allie wrapped in her sheets and curled up, holding her pillow.

"Good night, sweetie." Jenny stroked Allie's forehead, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"G'night, Mommy...'night, Jethro."

"Good night, Allie."

It only took her a few seconds to doze off, and Jenny and Jethro went back downstairs.

"She's beautiful."

Jenny smiled and sat on the couch, motioning for Jethro to follow suit.

"Yeah...she has the most beautiful eyes."

"Her hair is really pretty, just like her mother's."

Jenny blushed.

They were quiet for awhile, then Jethro spoke up.

"Why didn't you tell me, Jen?"

She sighed, "I found out two weeks after I left. What was I supposed to do?"

"You could have come back..."

"Jethro, I had just left you with nothing but a note. Do you honestly think you would've even let me explain, let alone take me back? Believe me, I wanted to come back; I almost did..." she paused and looked at Jethro, who was looking at the floor in front of him. "I think...if I had known about Shannon and Kelly, I would have stayed."

Jethro looked up, "So you're blaming this on me?"

"No, Jethro! I just meant...I would've known that it would hurt you...I would have been able to believe that Allie was something you wanted."

"She was. She still is."

"She would love for you to be a part of her life. She's always asking me to tell her about you...and she reminds me so much of you. I always tell her that."

"Yes!"

Jenny and Jethro turned around just in time to see Allie jump up from behind the couch, then climb over the back and on to the cushion between them.

"Allie?! Wha-"

"I knew it!" she threw her arms around Jethro, "You're my daddy! I'm so glad!"

Jethro looked over at Jenny, not sure what to do, but subconsciously put his hand on Allie's head.

"Alexandria Jasper Shepard, were you hiding behind the couch this whole time?"

Allie hid her face by scooting even closer to Jethro. "Maaaybe..."

"Allie..."

"Okay, I was...but I wanted to know! Jethro's just like all the stories you told me about my daddy, and I really was hoping that it was him and it is!"

"Oh, honey..."

Jethro smiled and put his arms around Allie, who snuggled closer to him.

"C'mon mommy!" Allie held her hand out, telling Jenny to join the hug.

She sighed and moved closer, then put an arm around Allie. She found the only way to be comfortable was to rest her head on Jethro's shoulder, so she did, telling herself it was only for the benefit of Allie, not because she was enjoying it.

"Jen."

She raised her head up to look at Jethro. "Hm?"

"She's asleep."

Jenny looked down at Allie, "I'll put her in bed." She pulled away and tried to pry Allie off of Jethro, but she had her arms tightly around him.

Jethro stood up and carried Allie to the stairs, Jenny following close behind. Once they reached her room, Jethro gently unwrapped himself from her arms and set her on the bed, then pulled the covers over her. He and Jenny both kissed her on the cheek and said goodnight before leaving the room. Just as Jethro stepped out into the hall, he heard her voice.

"Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight Daddy."

He smiled and walked down the stairs to catch up to Jenny. Just as he reached her, his phone rang.

"Gibbs. Yeah. You sure? Okay."

He flipped the phone shut without saying goodbye, and turned to look at Jenny.

"I've gotta go. They found the suspect in my investigation. I have to interrogate him."

"Alright."

Jenny walked him to the door.

"Bye, Jen."

"Goodbye, Jethro."

She watched him walk out the front door and down the walkway, before calling out his name again.

He turned around.

"She gets home from school at four thirty tomorrow."

Jethro smiled and nodded.

"Do you have a couple quarters?"

Jenny looked at him, very confused.

"You drove me here. I need to take a bus back to the local precinct."

"Oh, yeah. I can give you a ride if you'd like..."

"The bus is fine."

She handed him some money, and they both realized that they now only stood a step apart.

"Um, goodnight..."

She watched him walk down the sidewalk, reaching the corner just in time to catch the bus.

* * *

Well, I've been typing on my PDA whenever I get the chance, so here's what I've done in the last week-ish. Oh yeah, thanks for all the reviews!


	23. Houston, We Have a Problem

The clock dinged, announcing it was four o'clock. Jenny looked up from her book for a second before shifting her gaze back to the page. Truthfully, in the last hour, she had only made it to page five; she was too occupied with thoughts of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs to concentrate on reading.

_Why wasn't he mad at her?_

_How could he accept all this so easily?_

_Would he come back today?_

A knock on the door pulled Jenny out of her thoughts. She set her book on the coffee table in front of her and walked to the door.

She opened it and was surprised to see the subject of her latest daydreaming standing there.

"You gonna let me in?"

She realized she had been standing at the door for awhile and hadn't even said anything, so she moved aside and motioned for him to come in.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not intending for her words to sound quite so harsh.

"Hmm…I thought you'd be happy to see me?"

She smiled, knowing he understood that she didn't mean to sound angry, and sat on the couch. He took the cushion next to her and they were both silent for awhile.

"Tell me about her."

Jenny smiled. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Okay…let's see…"

"Let's start with her name." At the questioning look from Jenny, he clarified, "Why did you choose it?"

"I've always like the name Alexandria…when I was a little girl, I would always use it as my name when I played dress-up." She paused for an embarrassed giggle, "I don't remember when I started calling her Allie, but it stuck. My sister always called her AJ…as I'm sure you remember from last night, her middle name's Jasper. I know you already understand that."

He nodded.

"She's been going to boarding school since I became director, that way nobody would be able to tell she existed when they came to my place. I didn't want her getting hurt because of me. I would take her somewhere fun on the weekends, unless I had to stay in MTAC…"

Jethro put his hand on Jenny's to ease her as she continued.

"She's very outgoing…she definitely doesn't get that from you."

Jethro let out a small laugh.

"She'll tell you everything else about herself, trust me. She could talk all day."

"When's her birthday?"

"December twelfth. "

Just then, the door burst open and Allie run through it, simultaneously throwing her backpack on the floor and animatedly waving goodbye to whoever was in the white mini-van that dropped her off. She then noticed Jethro's presence and ran over to the couch, greeting Jenny and Jethro by jumping up onto the small space between them on the couch.

"Mommy, Daddy!"

The two looked over her head at each other, both surprised that Allie was already calling Jethro 'daddy' as if she had been doing it all her life.

Jenny asked her daughter how school was, and was met with a very detailed account of the whole school day, from the moment she stepped onto the grass in front of the school building to the moment she opened the front door only a few minutes ago. That brought her onto a rant about how much she hated the carpool system that she was in. She disliked the girl whose mom at brought her home today, and listed nearly every reason why she dreaded sitting next to her while being driven home. She ended her speech with 'But I was the bigger person and didn't be mean to her when she was being a brat. I just stared at her the whole way and she looked kinda creeped out.' She then looked back and forth from one parent's face to the other for pride or approval.

Jenny cocked an eyebrow at her for calling the other girl a brat, but Jethro was definitely proud of his daughter, who had shown her likeness to Jenny by putting up with the girl, but also shown her likeness to him by unnerving the girl, probably with the famous Gibbs glare.

"Do you have homework tonight?"

"Mayyybeeee…." Replied Allie, dragging the word out exaggeratedly.

"Go do it, okay?"

Allie sighed and grabbed her backpack. "What are we having for dinner?"

"You'll see when you finish your homework."

"Fiiiine…" she grumbled before walking away.

Once Allie had run up the stairs and disappeared around the corner into her room, Jethro turned to Jenny.

"You're right, she is talkative."

"I told you!" Jenny laughed.

A few minutes later, Allie came bounding down the stairs.

"Hey! No running down the stairs!"

"Sorry…I need help!" she thrust a notebook and a small textbook out in front of her. "Math!"

"I'll help."

Jenny was just a bit surprised to hear Jethro offer; but then, he did have experience with this type of thing.

"Okay!" Allie sat down by the coffee table and set her books down.

Jenny walked into the kitchen to start making dinner, leaving Jethro and Allie to their work.

About a half an hour passed, and Allie and Jethro had been having a lot of fun doing her homework, something Jenny had never seen before. With Allie, homework was always a chore, as with any kid.

As Allie was finishing a math problem, confident that her dad was watching her every step to make sure she did it right, Jethro's phone rang. Allie stopped working and started doodling on her paper while Jethro answered.

"Gibbs. Yeah. And? What!? Why are you just telling me this now?" Allie looked up when he raised his voice. "Don't do anything! Wait for my orders."

He shut the phone and got up, then patted Allie's head and told her to continue her work and that he'd be right back. He then walked into the kitchen, where Jenny greeted him with a questioning look, obviously having heard him on the phone.

"Jen, we have a problem…"

* * *

Finally, I update! I have band camp for the next few weeks, meaning updates will come slower than usual, so sorry in advance! Especially with this little cliffie here!


	24. Kosher

Tony walked down the stairs into the kitchen in his boxers and sat at the table where Ziva was already eating breakfast and reading the paper. He stared at Ziva's plate…the warm sausage, bacon, eggs, pancakes…

Ziva set down the paper and rolled her eyes, "There is a plate for you on the counter, just heat it up in the microwave."

"Thanks!" exclaimed Tony, kissing her cheek as he passed her on his way to the microwave.

Ziva smiled to herself and resumed reading the paper.

Soon, Tony came back with a freshly-microwaved breakfast and proceeded to stuff his face with it.

"Tony, you are inhaling your food like a vacuum cleaner!"

He looked up, a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth.

"Nmm mn bmmnntt!"

"I cannot understand what you are saying when your mouth is full of food!"

Tony quickly swallowed and said, "I said: no I'm not."

"You were."

"Was not."

"Yes, Tony. You eat like a hog."

"Pig, Ziva, I eat like a _pig_."

"Exactly."

"Wait! I was just correcting you. I didn't mean that I actually eat like a pig!"

"Too late, you said it." Ziva smiled and went back to reading the paper.

Tony, desperate to find some way to get back at her, sat quietly in his seat as he thought…

Ziva ignored him, figuring he would probably be up to something.

All of a sudden, Tony rose from his chair so quickly that it fell over; making a loud noise that prompted Ziva to look up from the paper.

She stared strangely at him as he laughed a very strange laugh akin to the generic evil villain in a cartoon.

"What is wrong with you, Tony?"

"That is not the issue here! You are the issue!"

Ziva still stared at him, a strange expression etched on her face.

"You have just eaten a delicious meal of sausage, bacon, and eggs! And pancakes, but that's not what I'm talking about…"

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"One word, my love: kosher."

"Kosher?"

"Yes, kosher. You eat bacon, eggs, sausage, and Philly Cheese Steaks with extra cheese and steak! That is not kosher!"

"I know."

Tony was silent for a moment, as if contemplating his next move.

"Not kosher!!"

Ziva raised her eyebrows at his outburst. "That is the best you could come up with?"

"Well, I thought you were supposed to eat kosher stuff."

"And you thought I forgot or did not know what was and was not kosher?"

"Well, I…"

Ziva smiled and got up, head-slapping Tony with the newspaper in her hand as she passed by him on her way to the living room. He followed her and sat down on the couch next to her; she continued reading the paper.

"I stopped eating kosher a long time ago, Tony. I decided I did not need to eat a certain way to be a part of a religion."

"Oh."

"Hey, look at this."

"What?"

"Gibbs is in the paper."

"Gibbs? Our Gibbs?"

"Yes, Tony. It is about that dog hair murderer that has been on the news lately; I guess Gibbs' team has the case."

"Hm. They never said it was being investigated by NCIS on the news."

"Do they ever, Tony?"

"Guess not." Tony laughed, "Did they quote Gibbs or something, then?"

"No, they tried but it says here that he 'declined to comment'."

"That's Gibbs for you."

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation, and Ziva got up to answer it since Tony was still only in his boxers.

A young delivery boy was at the door with a package in his hand.

"Is this the residence of Thomas and Lisa DiNardo?" he asked in an obviously rehearsed tone.

"Yes."

"Please sign for this." He handed Ziva the package and an electronic clipboard, which she signed.

"Thank you, ma'am."

The boy walked away and Ziva closed the door.

"Who was it?"

"A delivery boy. He brought a box."

Ziva went back to her spot on the couch next to Tony and pulled out a knife.

"Whoa! Where the hell did you get that from?"

"A small shop in Spain, I-"

"No, I mean just now!"

"Oh," she smirked, "You do not want to know."

Tony gaped.

"Okay, well knowing you, you probably do want to know. But I will not tell you."

Tony pouted as Ziva cut through the tape on the box and opened it.

"C'mon, Zee! Tell me!"

Ziva ignored him and read the message on the lone piece of paper that she had found inside the box.

"Is that all that was in there? What a rip-off! Now, where was that knife?" Tony started tracing patterns on Ziva's thigh.

She swatted his hand away and shoved the letter at him. He took it and read it, his face darkening with every word.

"Oh shit."

* * *

So, kind of a filler, but leads to something! Two cliffies in a row, wow, mysterious! I decided I wanted to address the issue of Ziva's Philly Cheese Steaks. Yum.


	25. Jethro

Jethro bounded out the door pulling Abby, who was holding tightly onto his leash, into the hallway with him. McGee walked out the door behind them and locked it. He turned around to see that Abby was already at the door to the stairs.

"C'mon, McGee!"

He walked quickly over to where Abby and Jethro stood waiting and watched as they ran ahead of him yet again, both excited for the walk. McGee chuckled to himself at Abby's unique animated personality before jogging to catch up with them.

"So where are we walking to today?"

Abby though about it for a moment before replying, "How about the park?"

"Sounds good."

They walked to the park with Jethro trotting obediently between them, but as soon as he caught sight of the ducks swimming in the park's pond, he took off with his leash dragging on the ground behind him. Neither Abby nor McGee were worried; Jethro didn't really need a leash, and there was nothing to worry about when he ran around without one. They approached the pond and sat at the edge, watching Jethro chase the ducks around.

The two were quiet for awhile, until McGee noticed that Abby looked unusually down; she had done nothing but stare into the pond in front of her for the past half-hour.

"Are you okay, Abbs?"

She looked up and smiled. "Yeah," she placed her hand on top on McGee's, "I just miss everyone…"

He smiled at her and she moved to lie on the ground, resting her head on McGee's lap.

"I know we can't bring the director back, but I still really miss her. Tony and Ziva, too…"

"Well, at least they'll come back eventually."

Abby sighed, "Eventually…"

As if sensing his masters' change in mood, Jethro ran over and began playfully nudging Abby and McGee with his nose, causing Abby to giggle.

"I guess it's about time to head back…it's starting to get dark out."

"Okay." Abby got up and grabbed Jethro's leash, then bent down again to pet him. "Come on Jethro, time to go home!"

The walk back did not relieve Jethro of the abundance of energy he still had, even after running around the park for so long.

"Well, how about we walk to my apartment, then to yours? That'll probably tire him out, and I need to pick up my mail anyways, I forgot to do that today."

"Alright, let's go."

Once they reached Abby's apartment, she ran inside so as not to keep McGee and Jethro waiting long. A few minutes later, Abby emerged from the building and walked back over to where McGee was standing. When she got close, Jethro started barking madly and lunging toward her. McGee pulled back on his leash to try and settle him, but he wouldn't heel. Abby didn't come any closer while McGee tried to subdue Jethro, and finally he succeeded.

The whole way back to McGee's apartment, Abby had to walk behind McGee, whose hand grasped Jethro's collar and leash. Jethro would not stop growling and barring his teeth until they got back to the apartment; McGee let go of Jethro's collar, and he started barking and lunging again. McGee lost the grip on his leash, and Jethro jumped up onto Abby, knocking the mail out of her hands and pushing her to the ground.

McGee rushed to get Jethro off of her, when he jumped away and began attacking the mail that had been scattered on the floor. McGee helped Abby up and she went over to Jethro and ripped a letter from his teeth.

McGee took Jethro's collar and led him into the bathroom, where he left him so he would calm down.

"Hey Timmy, come here!"

He walked back into the other room where Abby sat on the couch, the slightly torn and chewed envelope in her hand. She looked up when he sat next to her.

"Tim, this letter's addressed to both of us."

"What?"

"Yeah, it says 'Timothy McGee and Abby Scuito'."

"Who's it from?"

"There's no return address, I dunno…"

She opened it, and tilted the paper so she and McGee could read it at the same time.

Once she finished reading, the letter slipped from Abby's hands. She looked over at McGee, who was already looking at her, his eyes wide.

Neither could think of a single thing to say.

* * *

Sorry for the delay, I've got band camp from six thirty in the morning until four in the afternoon...doesn't leave much time to do stuff. Especially with school starting in two weeks.

By the way, I don't have a beta or anything, so sorry for any errors in this fic.


	26. She

_He shut the phone and got up, then patted Allie's head and told her to continue her work and that he'd be right back. He then walked into the kitchen, where Jenny greeted him with a questioning look, obviously having heard him on the phone._

"_Jen, we have a problem…"_

* * *

_She swatted his hand away and shoved the letter at him. He took it and read it, his face darkening with every word._

"_Oh shit."_

* * *

_Once she finished reading, the letter slipped from Abby's hands. She looked over at McGee, who was already looking at her, his eyes wide._

_Neither could think of a single thing to say._

* * *

The room was dim, not so dark that the figures standing in it could not be identified, but that didn't matter. The man who she needed to see had cleverly angled his seat so as not to be seen by anyone outside the room, and so even from the inside, all that could be made out were the outlines of his face.

Her contact, a low level tech on the inside could not risk planting a bug in the man's office, so his identification of the man would be their only thing to go by. But that hope was crushed by the knowledge that the contact was of such little value that he probably would never even be granted a glimpse of the man's backside.

Her view was obstructed by curtains, and a small space in the center of the window where the curtains had been left a few inches apart was her only was to look in. She was able to see most of the room, so she adjusted her binoculars and began memorizing the faces of the people who were standing. They were only pawns in this scheme, but there was always the chance that one of them would slip up and lead her to the true criminal, the man in the chair. The man who had eluded her for far too long.

The man began talking, and she abandoned her thoughts to listen. Her equipment could only faintly pick up what was being said in the room, but it was still a faint step closer to discovering the truth.

"Were the messages delivered?" Came the voice from the one man she couldn't see.

A man stepped forward.

"Yes sir, all three."

"Good. With that woman out of the way, this should be even easier than I thought."

There was a pause before she heard the cruel, cold voice of the man again.

"And the girl?"

There was a hesitant silence before someone replied, "We still have not been able to locate her, sir."

There was a loud, staccato noise, presumably from the man slamming his fist or another object against his desk. When he finally spoke again, it was in a seemingly calm voice, but one that was laced with threat and malice.

"Find her. Nobody must know who she is, and she may know more than we think. She can't have gone far."

There was a chorus of 'Yessir', before the group left the room. The man got up from his chair and moved over to the curtains to shut them completely, but kept his face hidden the whole time.

Did he know she was watching?

She quickly packed up her equipment and jumped from the tree she had been perched in. Once she made it the three blocks to her car and had not seen anyone tailing her, she got behind the wheel, took a second to collect herself, and drove off.

Her training had prepared her for far worse than this, so why was it that this particular mission unnerved her so much? She realized it was because a loved one was involved, and though she had been taught not to love or be affected by that kind of situation, she could not help it.

She knew she would have to make contact sometime soon. She did not want the wrong side to get to her best friend first, or there would be horrible consequences. And that was her motivation.

* * *

Oooh, a mystery! Who is she? And who is he? Hope this chapter wasn't too confusing! Sorry it was so short, but it will lead to big things. Band camp is finally over, so I have more time to write, until school starts at least. One week...one final week of summer.


	27. Home

"Jen, we have a problem…"

"What's going on, Jethro?"

He sighed and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

"A letter addressed to me was sent to the local precinct. They gave it to my team, who decided it would be a good idea to open it."

"And…?"

"It said that I would pay for killing Svetlana, in the same way that my partner paid for letting her live."

Right away Jenny knew that the 'partner' was her, and understood that whoever wrote the letter wanted Jethro dead.

"Whoever wrote the letter thinks I killed Svetlana."

Jenny's face flashed a look of surprise. "You didn't kill her?"

"No. Franks did."

The look in his eye told Jenny that there was more to the story, but she decided not to push the subject just yet. She sighed.

"I faked my own death so you wouldn't be a target!" She cursed and clenched her fists; in a smaller voice, she said, "It was all pointless…"

Jethro stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She was surprised, but didn't say anything; it felt so comforting that she didn't want him to let go.

"It wasn't pointless. If this person had known you were alive, he would be trying to kill you!"

They were silent for a few seconds before Jethro let her out of his embrace, and she reluctantly stepped back.

"Jen, do you know who Svetlana's partner is?"

"No…all I know is that it's a man."

Jethro let out a disappointed and exasperated sigh.

"Well, he obviously knows that I'm in Rapid City."

"But how?"

"It's all over the news with this serial killer."

"Oh, yeah."

"We have to do something before he finds out you're alive."

"We c-"

"Daddy!" Came the call from the living room, "You said you'd be right back!"

Jenny put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, we can discuss this once she's gone to sleep."

The two went into the living room to Allie and spent the rest of the evening as if nothing had happened, but both were uneasy about the situation.

Once Allie had gone to bed, Jenny and Jethro sat in the living room, neither saying a word, both thinking of how to survive. After pondering it for a few minutes, Jethro decided on a plan.

"You and Allie can come live with me."

Jenny quickly turned to face him. "What?"

"Come live with me."

She was at a temporary loss for words. "B-but why?"

"So I'll know you're safe." He stroked her cheek with his hand. "Please?"

Jenny didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or check Jethro's temperature to make sure it wasn't some strange disease that had possessed him to actually say 'please'. Instead, she blushed and all she trusted herself to say was a whispered 'yeah'.

* * *

Jenny, Jethro, and Allie all sat at the kitchen table. Allie was the only one eating her breakfast; her parents were readying themselves to tell her about moving to D.C.

"Allie," Jethro began, "What do you think about you and your mom moving in with me in Washington D.C.?"

Now, Jenny and Jethro had prepared themselves for two possible scenarios.

One: Allie cries and becomes very upset about leaving her friends.

Two: Exactly what happened...

Allie jumped up from her seat and ran to the other side of the table. She hugged her parents as tight as she could, before running around, jumping for joy, and yelling 'yes!'.

"Are we really gonna live with you? Oh, I'm so excited!"

Both Jenny and Jethro were relieved that Allie liked their plan, and decided to work out all the details while Allie was at school so they could leave as soon as possible. For all three of them, this was like a dream come true, though Allie was the only one openly voicing that thought.

For Jenny, this is what she had been wanting since the day after she left Jethro only slightly less than a decade ago.

For Jethro, this is what he had wanted since the minute he realized he had fallen head-over-heels in love with Jenny so long ago.

And it was Allie's dream of living happily ever after with her loving parents come true.

* * *

Alright, another short one, but they're going home! Yay!

Sorry my updating is kind of topsy-turvey...I can't really write when my parents/brother are home, and I have alot of marching band and drumline rehearsals. Once school starts, though, weekends may be my only time to write, but I'll try my best to get a chapter or two up a week.

I know pretty much exactly where this story is going, but I'm kinda writing every chapter as it comes at me, so sorry if there are any inconsistancies. If you find any, tell me so I can fix them please!

And, as always, I love reviews! They make me happy and hard-working, I swear!


	28. Computers

_Once she finished reading, the letter slipped from Abby's hands. She looked over at McGee, who was already looking at her, his eyes wide._

_Neither could think of a single thing to say._

* * *

Timothy paced the dim room that was the cyber-crimes lab. It was too early in the morning for any of his co-workers to be there, so he and Abby were the only ones in the lab.

Abby's voice broke the silence.

"So...some unknown entity is out to get the members of our former team…"

Tim stopped pacing and sat on one of the desks near Abby.

He brought his hand to his face. "I don't need to hear it again, Abbs…"

"I wasn't done. The question is, are they gonna go for us all as soon as possible, or are they gonna pick us off one at a time?"

Pictures of a fallen and lifeless Abby flashed through his mind, but were thankfully interrupted by the beeping of a computer.

Abby sighed. "All of the prints on the letter were ours. Whoever this guy is, he's good."

"That's just it, he's good. But we don't even know if it's a he; it could be a woman, or a group of people. We have nothing!"

"Well, we just have to think…who would want us all dead?"

Tim got up and slid into one of the desk chairs in front of a computer.

"Well, any of the criminals that we've ever caught, for sure."

He began typing and Abby jumped of the table and into the spot behind Tim's chair.

"What are you doing now?"

"Trying to access our team's records. It should give us a list of our closed cases and information about them."

"Oh, I get it," she leaned forward, resting her elbows on Tim's shoulders, "You're gonna make a list of all the people we've put in jail."

"Exactly. I can narrow it down to cases from after I joined the team, since the letter also had my name on it, and I can take out the names of people who are in jail or dead, for obvious reasons."

"Wait! Maybe that's it: we're being targeted by a dead person! I saw this thing on TV once where this girl got a really creepy guy put into jail and executed, then he came back to haunt her and make her life miserable because of what she did, and-"

"Abby, I really don't think it's a ghost."

She moved her arms straight out so they rested on top of Tim's.

"It was just a theory…" she pouted.

Just then a small rumbling noise was heard.

"Huh, I guess I haven't really eaten much today…"

Abby pulled her arms back and stood up straight.

"I'll go get some food while you make your list, 'kay?"

"No, Abby, you can't go out alone when someone wants you dead!"

"Oh, come on. I'll stay on the Navy Base, okay? It's super high security, so I'll be perfectly safe."

Tim sighed, "Fine, but keep your cell phone easily accessible, just in case."

"Yeah, yeah." Abby replied as she walked out the door.

She exited the NCIS building and walked down the street toward the Base's grocery store, thinking about what kind of food she should get.

All of a sudden a shot rang out.

She fell to the ground, feeling a sharp pain, but not able to tell where it was.

The last thing she saw was a woman running toward her, yelling for someone around her to call 9-1-1, then it all went dark.

* * *

Awww, Abby! I know, you're all mad at me now, right? But don't you worry! I shall make it up to you with much McAbby fluff in the near and distant future.

Also, I'm sorry the chapter is so short, but I barely have the time to write between school, band, and everything else. Plus I'm freaking out because I just got the music for the fourth movement of my marching show like last week and I have to have it memorized by Friday for a performance! Ahhhhh!


	29. Light

She eased open her eyes, but quickly squeezed them shut. The white light overhead was just too bright. She kept her eyes closed, but let the rest of her body adjust to being awake. She heard voices coming from somewhere around her, but she was still too disoriented to tell where they were coming from, or whose voices they were. She could only just barely tell the muffled voices apart.

"Sir, sir…calm down. Like I explained earlier, she pro-"

"No! I swear, her eyes opened! She moved, just a little bit, but she moved!"

"Sir, it is likely that she did move, but that does not mean she's awake. Like I said, she-"

"But she opened her eyes!"

There was an exasperated sigh. "Sir…"

She was awake, the second voice was right! She had to prove it...she had to say something…

"Hey…"

The voices stopped arguing.

She opened her eyes again, this time trying to bear the blinding lights above her.

A blurry figure moved in front of the light above her, but it took her what seemed like a very long time to make out who it was. Finally, the features became clearer, and her eyes adjusted just enough to realize it was McGee standing over her.

"Abby, Abby…"

All of a sudden he was shoved aside and an old nurse, who Abby assumed was the person Tim had been arguing with, appeared where he had been.

Abby tuned out the sharp voice of the old woman, who seemed to be chattering more to herself, then anyone else, anyways. She turned her head so she could just gaze at Tim, who noticed and showed a soft smile in response.

* * *

Sorry about the uber-shortness of this chapter! I don't have much time to write what with band and school, but I wanted to let you all know that Abby is okay.

The next will be longer, and will be with Tony and Ziva.


	30. Picking Up

"Dammit!" Gibbs slammed the phone down onto the receiver.

Jenny walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Still can't get a hold of them?"

She was referring to Abby and McGee. Gibbs had been trying to contact them for days, but they wouldn't answer either of their home phones, and both cell phones went straight to voicemail.

Gibbs was silent, perhaps wondering what their reasons could be for not staying in contact. He didn't dare call Director Vance to find out, however, because there was no way in hell he would ever admit his lack of the complete control he was known for to that tyrant.

"Well, once we get everything packed up, we can fly out there and find out what's going on. I already notified Allie's school that she will be leaving soon, and everything else is taken care of."

"You sure?"

Her smile softened. "Of course I'm sure, Jethro."

"Alright. Let's finish packing before Allie gets home."

"Uhm...one problem."

"What?" Hesitance was not usually a trait Jenny showed, so he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking.

"Allie begged me to get her out of her carpool. And she asked if you would pick her up today. So...I said yes."

"Me?"

"Yeah," she giggled, "I think she wants to show you off to her classmates. She says they make fun of her for not having a father."

Gibbs smiled. "Well, I can't say no, can I?"

"Thanks. You'll have to leave in about a half an hour."

"Okay. Well, let's get some more stuff packed before then."

"Good. I want to go back home as soon as possible. Do you know what was done with all the stuff that I left in my townhouse?"

"Ah, well..."

"What did you do?"

"I, uh, burnt your house down."

"What?!" exclaimed Jenny.

"Well, I thought you were dead, and we needed to make up a cause of death, so..."

Jenny put her hands on her head. "My stuff..."

Gibbs walked toward her, hoping she would not attack him if he came any closer.

"I did grab a few things...some photo albums and stuff."

"What 'stuff'?"

"That bracelet...from Paris, and a box that I can't get open."

"Box?"

"Yeah. Black. White flowery design carved into it."

"Oh! So you haven't opened it?"

"It won't open, I've tried everything except breaking it."

"You better not break it! No more trying to open it; what's inside is only for me to see."

He shook his head and muttered, 'women'.

"Excuse me? What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Right..."

They shoved stuff into boxes for the next twenty minutes, then Gibbs grabbed the keys and headed out to pick up Allie.

Jenny hollered, "Do you need directions to the school?"

"No."

"Alright," she said to herself.

* * *

He pulled into the parking lot at Allie's elementary school and walked into the building. He stopped when he saw the mob of parents waiting to pick up their children.

A woman walked up to him, "Excuse me, sir? I'm sorry, but who are you picking up?"

"Allie Shepard."

"Her mother didn't call us about having someone other than her usual carpool mothers picking her up today."

"I'm her father." He used his best Gibbs-glare on her.

"Oh, umm...I-I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, the lady came back, just as she said.

"Um...we called Ms. Shepard. She confirmed that you would be picking up Allie."

"I know."

"Ah...r-right." She shuffled away.

Soon after, the mob of parents began to move, and Gibbs found himself searching the oncoming crowd of students for red hair. Finally, he saw two red pigtails, very Abby-like, bobbing in the crowd.

He waved to get her attention, and she came running to him.

"Daddy!"

She hugged him, obviously noticing the surprised stares of her class, but pretending that it was nothing out of the ordinary. 'Very Jenny-like,' he noticed.

On the way back to the house, Allie was talking animatedly, but was interrupted by the ringing of Gibbs' cell phone. He picked it up and hit 'talk'.

"Boss?"

It was McGee.

Gibbs had to keep the conversation at a normal level as not to alarm Allie, so he spoke in a way that would make only Jenny or a member of his team sense his fury.

"Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

"Well, boss...Abby was shot."

McGee explained everything to Gibbs while Allie sat quietly in the back seat, reading a book.

Finally, they reached the house and the conversation ended.

The only good thing about his conversation with McGee was that he now had an idea of who was behind these threats, and now attacks, on the team. _His_ team.

* * *

Yup. Another short one. Once I get Gibbs, Jen, and Allie to DC, some exciting stuff will happen. It's true. I have a master plan.


End file.
